


Slither

by Kendrene



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Gorgons (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Mild angst in the middle, blind!kara, gorgon!Lena, smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: When kara is assaulted by a mugger on the way home from work, legend itself comes to the rescue.ORthe gorgon and the blind girl AU, but make it supercorp
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 221
Kudos: 1280





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here goes nothing. Enjoy.
> 
> \- Dren
> 
> σκατά: Shit

Kara hated working late. 

She didn’t like leaving the office when it was already quiet around her, everyone gone except for Steve, the private security guy at the front desk.

“Do you have somebody to walk you home, Ms. Danvers?” He asked her whenever she put in overtime to meet a deadline, as though he expected the answer to change.

“No,” Kara smiled. “But it’s only a few blocks anyway.”

“If you’re sure.” He invariably replied, and although Kara couldn’t see his face, she could tell from the lilt of his voice he didn’t like the idea of her walking home alone. 

A few more steps and she was outside. The last time she’d worked so late —  _ burning the midnight oil _ , Snapper liked to call it despite never walking out of CatCo later than 5pm — it had been warm. The last sweet whiff of summer tickling at her nose. 

Nights were colder now, not quite fall but certainly not balmy summer anymore. The air had an edge to it that pressed cool against her cheeks after so many hours spent inside the stuffy confines of the office, and she regretted not having thrown a light scarf inside her bag that morning. 

Then again, she hadn’t known she’d be working so  _ late _ .

She left CatCo and turned right. The city was quiet, as still as it ever got in the middle of downtown. The only sounds were the  _ clak, clak, clak _ of her white cane striking the sidewalk a few paces ahead of her feet, and every so often, the rumble of a car passing her by. 

Others might think that it was easier to walk without having to negotiate with the rush hour crowd, and to a certain extent they’d have a point. 

Kara had lost count of the times she’d been jostled, growled at only for the anger to subside the moment people noticed the cane in her hands. 

However, there was also safety in numbers. The brush of unknown bodies against hers brought a sense of grounding that the emptiness of midnight didn’t have. 

The path was familiar. She greeted the cracks in the sidewalk like old friends. Had counted the number of steps it took to get from one street corner to the next so many times that distance was now muscle memory. 

The vacuum left by the absence of all other movement beside hers was like nightfall for other people, Kara guessed. Known buildings became strange when wrapped by shadows. Foreboding and unfamiliar. The darkened windows akin to empty eye sockets that stared down from above, the barred doors like leering mouths, ready to swallow the unwary whole.

Not that Kara had ever gotten to  _ see  _ the transformation, mind you.

She went by the late night kebab kart on Fifth, stopping briefly to pick up dinner. Lamb skewers, falafels, two large portions of fries. The smell, rich with spices, was enough to make her stomach rumble and her mouth water. 

Kara dug a handful of fries out of the greasy paper bag the vendor had stuffed them in and wolfed them down, juggling the rest of the food and her cane one handed for a couple of steps. The fries were too hot against the roof of her mouth, but she hummed in delight through the brief pain and licked her fingers clean. 

Two pedestrian crossings later, and she knew the park was on her left. The stretch of woodland wasn’t big, but it had a  _ presence _ , especially at night.

In the summer it would be crowded, even this late. Busy with people walking their dogs, or sitting at the tables of the kiosk that sold ice cream, snacks and beverages all summer long. 

Everything was shuttered now, stored away in anticipation of the colder months. The kiosk would reopen, briefly, for Halloween and then Christmas, with a Santa look-alike stationed outside to attract children. 

Bare branches rustled in the wind with the sound of dry laughter, but that didn’t scare Kara. She could tell, somehow, that a number of the trees were ancient — so old they had been growing here before the city was more than the idea of a settlement in the heads of its founders — and she estimated they must be angry to be confined among cement. She respected that, and when she happened to walk across the park during the day, she made sure to greet her favorites. 

It was when the end of her cane caught on a particularly nasty pothole that Kara heard it. 

Footsteps, stopping a moment after the echo of her own heels had faded. 

“Hello?” 

This was the part in the horror flicks Alex liked so much in which the protagonist turned around, frowning down the street only to find it empty. 

Kara didn’t turn. It was for her an unnecessary motion. She called out instead, and stood still. Listened. 

Nothing.

Just the sound of her steps bouncing weirdly then, or her imagination playing tricks on her. 

It happened, sometimes. What people believed about the blind — that their other senses were heightened as a reaction to the lack of sight — was  _ bullshit _ . Kara, and others like her, had simply learned to rely on their ears and their noses more than the average person, but it was possible to listen for danger  _ too  _ hard. Hear things that weren’t there.

She resumed walking, but no more than three paces later, footsteps were hounding her again. Closer. 

“Hello? Is anybody there?” Her grip on the white cane shifted. It wasn’t much in the way of a weapon, the aluminum it was made of too light to really hurt, but hey, better than nothing, right?

“Okay, this isn’t funny.” She didn’t like the edge her voice had gained. It quivered, and she felt all the more exposed because of it. “Go play your Halloween pranks on somebody else.” 

She was barely done speaking when the footsteps rushed toward her. Someone running — Kara heard them breathe as well — all pretence at stealth abandoned. 

Raising her cane diagonally in front of her body the way she did to protect herself from a stationary obstacle, Kara widened her stance and braced. Time slowed for her. It stretched — each falling footstep, every ragged breath thundering in her ears. Tension expanded from her belly outward, voiding her of everything else. Kara wondered if the panic would empty her bowels too, and the thought — as disgusting and embarrassing as it was — almost sent her into a fit of manic giggles.

Then her assailant was on her, hands going for her purse. A mugger, she had time to think. Unusual for this part of town.

Kara swung at him wildly, as though she were a child and he a pinata. The cane landed once — the surprised howl of pain that followed was proof enough of that — before it was ripped from her hand so roughly her palm burned with the friction. 

“Let go!” He grunted in her ear, his breath spoiled by bad teeth-brushing habits.

In the scuffe, the shopping bag that held her dinner fell to the ground. That was enough to stun her momentarily, and sizing the opportunity, the mugger threw her down as well, ripping her leather purse off of her shoulder. 

Pushing up on all fours, Kara tried to totter to her feet, but a kick to her gut sent her sprawling on the cement, something soft and wet squelching under her. 

“That’s for the—  _ what the fuck _ ?” 

Never in her life had Kara regretted being blind as she did then. Well, there had been a pang of sadness when she’d turned sixteen and discovered that self-driving cars were not as close to reality as marketing campaigns had led her to believe, but she’d gotten over it. 

She would have given everything to see what was going on a few steps away from her now.

The mugger was still there, Kara perceived him the way she could feel when people were standing too close to her. It wasn’t an aura exactly, but a feeling of  _ mass  _ spilling over the borders of her personal space. And that was how Kara knew someone else was there, standing so that she was caught in between two warring forces.

It was unbearable. Made her want to scream to end the stalemate. 

“Leave.” The voice breaking the terse silence was a woman’s, cool with authority. “Or stay…  _ permanently _ . Your pick.” 

The phrasing was a weird one, Kara thought, but the night had spiralled so far from what would be classified as ordinary already, her mind didn’t linger on it much. 

“Look if this is some sort of trick or treating shit, you’re gonna—” The mugger cut off abruptly, whatever else he’d meant to say dissolving into a choked wheeze. Like he was being suffocated, but that wasn’t possible. Kara could feel the newcomer — the woman — standing right next to her. She had appeared at her side as if by magic (walked up to them while they were scuffling) and hadn't moved since.

“Guess you’ll stay.” Came after, softly, and it seemed strange to hear sadness laced through those words. Then, even quieter. “So much for progress making mankind smarter.” 

One last strangled gasp, and all was silence again, thick as the blanket waiting for her on the couch at home. 

Kara opened eyes she’d not realized she had screwed shut (not that it made much of a difference) and pushed on one elbow, struggling to sit up. 

The suddenness of the attack, and of the rescue had numbed her to pain, but now it ran her through, coming from a dozen different places all at once.

Her nylons had gotten torn in the fall, and one of her knees was scraped bloody, the warmth radiating from it pulsing with the beat of a secondary heart.

Where the mugger boot had struck Kara could tell a bruise was forming, blooming across her middle. It would hurt like a bitch for a few days — she didn’t need to see to tell it would be spectacularly ugly.

“Ugh.” She managed to gather her feet underneath herself, but when it was time to propel up she faltered. Nausea made her axis tilt, and she sat back down with a huff of expelled air. 

“Is it alright if I touch you? I’d like to help.” The woman was so close that Kara could smell her perfume. A hint of spice, quickly lost in the wind, layered with sandalwood. Something muskier underneath, too, for which she wasn’t sure she possessed a descriptor. 

Wrong. 

She  _ did _ , but it was a  _ weird  _ one. A chilled,  _ scaly  _ scent drifted to her from the stranger. Again, weird. Weirder still, was the fact that it didn’t upset her.

“Is he—” Her tongue felt the thickness of a shoe sole in her mouth, and it was hard to negotiate each sound. “Is he gone?” Better, if only marginally so. Kara had fought to project an image of independence all of her life, and she hated coming off this rattled. 

There was a pause, as though the woman had a set of different answers she was picking through. 

“Yes.” She said eventually. “He won’t hurt you again.” 

For the second time that night, Kara had the impression there was something structurally unusual in the woman’s syntax. She seemed blunt, pointed to a fault, and yet the words she spoke with unfaltering precision could be interpreted a hundred — no, a thousand — different ways. 

But perhaps Kara was just tired and achy. Still afraid, even though she was already hard at work on the compartmentalizing front. 

“Please,” Kara twisted around, feeling the concrete for her lost cane. There was mud under her nails, and a carpet of wet leaves met her questing hands. “I had a cane, but he—” 

“Here.” Gentle fingers closed around her hand, guided it to the coldness of aluminum. “But I’m afraid it’s gotten damaged. Won’t be much use.” Kara nodded. She could tell as much, by running her fingers along the cane. It bent at a weird angle, and she’d have to throw it out. There was a spare one back at home, and she could order another off of Amazon first thing in the morning. 

“I also think you’re wearing part of your dinner.” The woman mentioned helping Kara up, her touch firm but unobtrusive. She offered her body as a landmark Kara could lean against until she had fully regained control of her shaking limbs. “I’m sorry about that. Looked tasty.”

“Best falafels in town.” Kara sniffled, tears threatening to overflow. Food was a silly thing to be crying over — she was unarmed, things could have ended up much worse — but she couldn’t staunch the flow. 

“I’m s— sorry.” She pushed out past a twisting mouth. “I shouldn’t be— it’s stupid to—” 

“Hey. Hey, it’s fine. You have a right to be upset.” Something brushed against her cheek, warm and dry. Skin, but not skin exactly. 

On any other given day under the sun Kara would have recoiled at the blatant breach of boundaries, but something, likely the realization of how finite her days were, made her want to lean forward. 

“ _ σκατά _ .”

Just as it had come, the sensation disappeared, and Kara blinked as if waking from a dream. She shook her head, hoping her thoughts would clear with the motion. 

“Did you say something?” 

She was sure she’d heard— 

“No.” There was a rustle, and then the woman was pressing Kara’s purse into her free hand. “I was wondering if you need assistance walking home, though.” 

Kara liked her, she decided as much there and then, but realized she was simply catching up to a conclusion her subconscious had already reached. 

Most people, when confronted with someone like her, asked if she needed help whilst in the midst of giving it. Grabbing and pulling and steering before permission had been granted. 

Not this one. She was… different. As careful as someone who’s been othered all their lives knows how to be. 

“Are you sure? You’ve done a lot already, I don’t want to impose.” 

Kara didn’t want to be alone. She dreaded it. Darkness had never been a source of fear for her — how could something she knew so intimately be scary? — but the attack added a sense of threat to it that would take time to dissipate. 

“I’m positive. I will sleep better, knowing that you got home safe.” 

“Well then,” Kara reached out, smiling a little when a strong arm threaded with hers. “You better tell me your name.” 

***

Her name, Kara discovered, was Lena, and by the time they had walked to Kara’s aparment building and taken the elevator up to her unit, she was nursing something of a crush. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a coffee or something?” Kara asked, holding the door open with one shoulder. “It’s really not a bother.” 

“Thank you but no.” Lena declined. She had shied away from the doorway a little, Kara could tell. “It really is late. Maybe some other time.” 

“Okay. If you’re sure…” 

“I am, but thank you Kara, really.” It was the first time Lena had said her name, and  _ oh  _ if not for the solid surface of the door Kara would have melted into a puddle at her feet. It was the accent, hardening the  _ K _ and rounding out the rest, sweetening her name into ambrosia. Greek, maybe. 

“Well, can I leave you my contacts at least? I owe you a drink, or a dinner.  _ Something _ .” 

Fumbling with her purse, Kara began the painful process of digging through the assortment of loose change and empty candy wrappers it contained, looking for the fresh stack of business cards she was  _ sure  _ she’d thrown in it after the last press event. 

“I don’t have a phone.” Lena said, slicing through her efforts. “But I will take you up on one of those offers sometimes.”

“But how—”

(seriously, how could she get anything done without a smartphone? It was 2020, not ancient Greece.) 

“I’ll find you.” Lena insisted, and it should have sounded like a threat, but didn’t.

***

“Hey, Danvers have you  _ seen  _ the news?” 

“No, Schott, because you know, I’m  _ blind _ .” 

It was the running joke between them. As usual Winn let out a snort, and placed a cup of coffe in front of her on the desk. 

“Grande caramel latte with five extra shots of espresso?” Kara asked, just to be a butt. The sickly-sweet smell of it already filled her cubicle. 

“Would I ever get that vomit-inducing concotion you call a Starbucks order wrong?” Right about now Winn was placing a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. 

“You better not.” Kara mock-threatened. She took a sip, sighing happily when the rush of sugar hit her bloodstream. “So what about the news? We  _ are _ the news.”

“Not this time we ain’t. The Chronicler got there first.” 

“There where?” Crap. Snapper must be furious, which in turn meant they’d be made miserable soon. Unpaid overtime yawned in front of her for the foreseeable future. 

(good thing she couldn’t see much of anything.)

“You know the park a block from your house?” 

“Yeah?” Kara paused mid-sip, put her coffee down. There were donuts too, a boston cream and an old fashioned, but she ignored the food and the rumblings of her stomach altogether, too focused on what Winn had just said. “What about the park?” 

“Okay,” Winn’s chair screeched closer to hers, so that their knees were almost touching. “Somebody dumped a statue right in front of the main gate. Workers tried to move it, but whoever did it must have glued it to the sidewalk. They got a crew there right now, going at it with jackhammers.” 

“Halloween prank?” She had to clasp her hands on her lap to keep them from shaking.

“Maybe.” Winn lowered his voice to a whisper. “But get this; police say the statue is the spitting image of someone they’ve been trying to track down for weeks. Mugging, aggravated robbery, fencing. Spooky uh?” 

“Yeah. Spooky.” Kara reached for the coffee, but even though she gulped down too much of it, burning her throat, she couldn’t taste a thing. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Lena meet again, this time on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't have time to post tomorrow so here's your chapter one day early.
> 
> Next update on the 28th
> 
> Greek Translations:
> 
> Γοργών - Gorgón: gorgon  
> μαλάκας - malaka: idiot, wanker  
> διεστραμμένοι - diestramménoi: perverts

She’d made a mistake. 

Had Lena not been watching the proceedings from the safety of a shadowed spot between two buildings, she would have heard regardless.

A passerby had discovered the statue — the body — as the sky went from pearl grey to lavender, the first rays of the sun brushing against the treetops. Lena was already awake — she didn’t really  _ need  _ sleep, but it was nice — and watched, mildly entertained, as the man stared, clearly dumbstruck. 

Surprise lasted only a few moments. 

Then, he fished into the pocket of his trousers for his phone, taking a selfie before he called the police. 

It was something she’d noticed about mortals in modern times. Very little fazed them, and some even sought mystery out. It was for them a thrill, rather than something to be warded against.

Two cars pulled up some time later, and while a policeman asked the man a couple of questions, the rest gathered around the statue, looking puzzled. 

They weren’t alone for long.

As the city came alive, traffic filling the streets around the relative quiet of the park, a crowd gathered. Businessmen heading downtown, teens walking to school. Moms with strollers and the usual flock of early morning joggers. Everyone wanted to get a better look. 

Other police units were called, the area cordoned off to discourage the selfie-takers, then just as Lena was ready to sneak off to spend the rest of her day in peace, the road crew got there. 

Workers in orange coveralls swarmed the scene, debating how best to remove the statue. 

First they tried to topple it by hand, and when that didn’t work, by winding a thick rope around it, the end of which was then secured to a tow hook. 

Lena knew what would happen next, but she hung around to watch anyway. 

The truck they’d attached the cable to — painted the same glaring orange as the workers’ coveralls — roared into life. The cable tensed, visibly vibrating with the generated horsepower, and smoke rose in acrid grey puffs from the thick tyres. 

With the gut-wrenching sound of bending metal, the tow hook broke off, part of the truck’s underside ripped out along with it. 

That was when things stopped being so amusing. 

Jackhammers came into play next, but Lena was already slinking away, eager to head back into the relative safety of the abandoned building she spent daylight hours in. 

It wasn’t the skull-splitting noise they made that chased her away, but the van she’d spotted at the end of the street. 

Catching wind of a story, which even though it wasn’t big, was definitely  _ weird _ , the local news channel had shown up. 

Electronic eyes were the real danger of the modern age. All cell phones, even the cheapest models, came with a camera. CCTV spied down on unsuspecting citizens from every street corner, and most stores had their own private surveillance as well, to protect themselves from robberies. 

Torch bearing mobs and the lone warrior seeking to carry out an heroic deed to marry the king’s daughter had been easier to avoid. Lena didn’t  _ miss  _ those, but life was simpler then. Clear cut. 

Of course, she could move. Leave the city behind and head north into the wilderness. She’d heard there were places, up in Alaska, where men didn’t go. Forests that had stood unchanged through the millennia. 

Lena had tried. 

Prior to crossing the ocean as a stowaway on a spanish ship, centuries before National City first saw light, she’d travelled across the old world, to corners of it so remote their names were lost to humanity’s collective consciousness. 

She’d risked going mad. 

Silence has a way of filling you up until nothing else is left inside you, until you scream — wordless, and as loud as your lungs will allow — to remember what another human voice (which is yours but you don’t recognize) sounds like. 

Lena had been warned that it would happen. It was to be part of her spoils; to crave which she could not have. Companionship. 

“I made a mistake.” She whispered quietly to herself, wedging her body past the rusted chain link fence at the back of  _ her  _ building. A hiss of disagreement came from underneath her hood, and she  _ tsked  _ irritably. “Oh, hush you. Nobody asked your opinion.” 

Back in her sanctum, Lena pushed back the deep hood that helped hide the snakes from view. They were an extension of her, but also possessed tiny minds of their own, and now they writhed in an ever shifting halo around her head, the dry rustle of scales rubbing against scales filling the bare space she called a home. 

“Yes, yes. I know and I’m sorry.” When she reached up, eager bodies bumped into her fingers. The snakes understood the need for secrecy, but they didn’t like to be trapped underneath her hood for long periods of time and Lena sympathized. “We’ll only go out at night for a couple of days, I promise.” She soothed, and forked tongues flicked across her knuckles in approval. It would be best to avoid going out at all, but too much time cooped up and she grew restless.

Just like the snakes on her head ultimately did. 

The place she called her home was nothing to gawk at, but Lena had collected an assortment of furniture that was perfectly serviceable, if old and out of style. It was amazing what capitalism did to people. Objects with much still to give were cast aside for newer models, which in turn were soon discarded. 

The cycle was endless, self-eating. It reminded her of when her kind — and centaurs, nymphs and all the others — were common knowledge. When it was possible to cross paths with her kin as soon as one left a town behind for the openness of the horizon. 

They had ascended now to myth, and one day they’d be forgotten. Many of them already had. Along with the old gods.

She sighed, and puttered with the camping stove in the corner, meaning to make herself tea. The stove, her tea collection and her books were her most prized possessions. 

The stove was also the one thing that Lena had bought new off of Amazon, picking it up from a designated locker in the dead of night. She hadn’t lied to Kara when she’d mentioned not having a phone — her iPad, bought from a pawn shop surely didn’t count — but she’d never denied having internet access. Or funds. By the will of the gods she might be a gorgon, but she’d kept up with the times.

Immortal beings, as rare as they were now, had no need for the trappings of humanity, but Lena liked her tea and a good book. She liked the ritual of it. Picking out a blend to suit her mood, the gentle hiss and crackle of the boiling water as it was carefully poured over the dry leaves. The regulated process of letting the tea sit for an exact amount of minutes that she counted off inside her head. 

It was not necessary for her nourishment, if one intended it as physical, but sitting with a steaming cup of tea in hand and a book open in her lap  _ did  _ feed Lena’s soul. 

Of the two bookshelves she’d salvaged from a yard sale, one was only tea leaves, each jar painstakingly labelled by her hand. The words were in ancient greek, unreadable to most, but as familiar to Lena as when she’d first learned to recognize the letters. 

Today, she picked a black tea enriched with berries, robust of body and scent. It was a dark, almost livid color when she poured it out into the waiting porcelain. As tempestuous on her tongue as was her mood. 

True to her word, she spent the rest of the day indoors, but none of the books in her extensive collection could sway her attention. Her mind kept drifting back, not to the statue that by now the road crews must have managed to tear down, but to Kara. 

It was foolish to want to find the girl again, but Lena couldn’t snuff out the desire to. 

As soon as the city quieted down she headed out, retracing her steps back to the park. Much to her surprise, the snakes seemed glad of the development. Eager, almost. Certainly they allowed her to pull up the hood without putting up the usual fight. Then again, Lena remembered how one of them — the boldest of the bunch — had taken advantage of a momentary distraction to brush against Kara’s cheek. 

The statue was gone, a small crater in its place. Undoubtedly, the workers would be back the next day to repair the damage done to the sidewalk. 

Staring at the direct consequence of her actions, Lena felt marginally bad, for the taxpayers’ money that would go into the repairs, if not for the man she’d turned to stone. 

No — her lips curled into a sneer, and the snakes rustled their agreement — he’d gotten all that he deserved. 

Since she’d escorted her there, Lena knew where Kara lived. Truth be told, she’d paid more attention to the mortal she’d been holding hands with than to the roads they had been walking, but her snakes had an impeccable sense of direction, and would have no difficulty guiding her. 

What stopped Lena from following through was the propriety of the act. The way it’d make her look. It was easy to recall her parting words to Kara —  _ I’ll find you _ , she’d said not really meaning to at the time — and she realized just now how menacing it sounded. 

It wouldn’t do for her to show up at Kara’s door without warning. Not after the girl — woman really, but they were all young girls in her eyes — had already endured quite the scare. 

She had just turned around, meaning to take the long way back to her refuge— the trail that wound its way through the heart of the park — when she heard it.  _ Clak. clak, clak. _ A cane striking cement. 

The sound froze her. 

Lena should go, had all the time to slither off into the shadows. It had begun to rain as well, not where she stood, but at the end of the street. A curtain of it boiled along the asphalt, billowing forth in the growing wind. It would aid in masking her retreat. 

Wouldn’t make a difference, because the girl that was walking down the street toward her was  _ blind _ , for Artemis’s sake, which was at the end of the day what had landed Lena in the frying pan to begin with.

(nest of vipers sounded, after all, a tad redundant.)

“ _ μαλάκας _ . _ [idiot] _ ” She muttered lowly, in useless self-deprecation. 

Speaking of useless, she was already moving forward, a hand raised in warning. Another stupid thing to do. Kara wouldn’t  _ see  _ it, just as she couldn’t see how the sidewalk ended into a hole a few steps from her shoes.

“Stop!” she called, having to shout to be heard over the downpour. It was really coming down now, and from the noise the rain made as it hit the row of cars parked nearby, ice had joined the fun. Lena couldn’t tell whether it was climate change, or Zeus throwing a tantrum, but she leaned toward the former. “You’re gonna fall if you keep going.” 

Kara halted, a frown creasing her brow. She’d been caught off guard by the sudden turn of the weather too, and wasn’t carrying an umbrella. Not that it would have made a difference. 

Her hair hung limply, slicked to her skull by the rain. Strands of it stuck to her cheeks as the deluge lashed at her without mercy. Kara’s coat, a sensible choice for any weather but this one, was waterlogged as well, so weighted down by excess water it barely moved in the wind. Startingly blue eyes stared ahead, unseeing and yet, somehow, trained on Lena. 

“I know what you are.” The mortal called from across the man-made chasm in lieu of greeting. 

The hole in the sidewalk had already been filled by water, murky brown from the gravel and sand that had been packed under the cement. It overflowed, ran down the street in a stream at first, and then a gurgling river. 

Lena could already tell, from the lurid color of the sky — a sickly grey tinged orange by the light of the streetlamps — that the city was going to have a very rude awakening. 

“Okay, but stay there please.” Lena had to wade across the current, and got drenched past her knees in the process. “You can tell me all about it in a minute.” 

Leaving was self-preservation, but she couldn’t abandon Kara. With the world around them turned into a chaos of rain and overflowing sewers — one of the manholes further up the street had popped open, a geyser of questionable fluids spraying out of it — Kara’d never make it home safe.

“You’re a  _ Γοργών [gorgon] _ ,” Kara sputtered as soon as she felt Lena was near.  __

“And your pronunciation is terrible.” It wasn’t really, but Lena was so stunned she couldn’t think of a better comeback. Kara was not the first to call her for what she was —  _ gorgon _ — but Lena couldn’t remember the last time someone had named her without hatred or fear behind the word. 

“My pronunciation is perfectly fine, thank you very much.” 

“Be as it may, we ought to get out of the storm.” Lena said, hovering closer. It wasn’t just wind anymore, but a gale that shook the trees with vehemence. Branches creaked ominously overhead, and just as Kara was about to reply, a crash cut through the roar of rushing water. 

One of the trees inside the park had succumbed to the wind tearing at its branches, and with the tortured pop of splintering wood tilted into its neighbors. But that wasn’t all. Rain shifted decisively to ice; round pellets already blanketed the street in places, and while Lena watched, a nearby car’s back window exploded inward.

“We gotta go!” She grabbed Kara’s arm, drawing her near. Later, once they were out of danger, she would apologize for having done so without asking. 

Kara didn’t seem bothered. 

Her shoulders had jerked with the unexpected noise of the tree falling, and she instinctively stepped closer to Lena, seeking shelter. 

The mortal allowed herself to be guided, and although Lena did her best to be gentle about it, she ended up pulling her along, hail pelting them both.

“Where… Where are we going?” Kara stumbled over unfamiliar ground, and Lena forced herself to slow down, hissing when she saw a shard of ice strike the mortal’s temple. Kara would have had no reason to ever come this way, down the narrow, trash littered alleyway that led to the forlorn ruin she called a home. Her cane was a hindrance more than an aid, tangling into her coat.

“There’s shelter nearby!” She pressed her lips to Kara’s ear as she spoke, the howling wind threatening to rip her words to shreds before they could be heard. “Hold on just a little longer.” 

Getting away from the storm’s fury was a relief for them both. Lena didn’t feel pain the way humans did. Her body was impervious to most things, immune to cold and rot and sickness. 

The same could not be said for the trembling woman that stood by her side. Kara was soaked from head to toe, and a rivulet of blood — pink from being mixed with the rain water — snaked down one side of her face, disappearing past her collar. 

She didn’t seem aware of it. 

“You’re bleeding.” Lena pointed out, tugging her forward gently. It wasn’t any warmer inside her den than it had been out, but at least they’d be dry. And she had spare clothes and blankets she could lend Kara. 

(Blankets were nice, especially the floofy fleece ones, and even though she didn’t want for warmth, Lena enjoyed folding one over her legs while she was reading.) 

“Oh.” Raising a hand to her temple, Kara touched the spot where the hailstone had split her scalp and grimaced. WIth the adrenaline of their flight wearing off, pain was starting to set in. 

“Come on.” Lena stepped aside, allowing Kara to acquaint herself with the space in her own time. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you warm clothes and grab something to tend that cut.”

She had taken no more than a half step toward one of the bookshelves when, behind her, Kara cursed, the sound of objects spilling to the ground following suit. 

“Crap.” The mortal girl was already crouched down, feeling with her hands to recover what she’d dropped from her pockets. One thing in particular pulled at Lena’s attention the way a magnet does with metal. A laminated badge attached to a yellow lanyard. It had Kara’s picture on it, and her name. Underneath it, bold lettering spelled  **PRESS** .

“You’re a journalist.” Lena exhaled, a chill rattling her spine for the first time in a millennia. Kara reached for the badge, her hand closing around it at the same time, and they ended up in an awkward tug-of-war. “You’re going to—” 

“What? No!” Kara was so shocked by the insinuation she let go of the lanyard and physically recoiled. “Expose you? Why would I do that?” Her voice quivered, hurt, and that gave Lena pause. 

When she said nothing, Kara crawled to her on hands and knees, one hand lifting, stopping short of touching her cheek. 

“Don’t you think I would have had a photographer tail me if I wanted to do that? Or that I’d carry a hidden camera? Hell, look—” With a quick, angry economy of motion she shrugged out of her coat, turned the rest of the pockets out. “I didn’t even bring my phone!” 

In rapid succession, three sodden candy bars, what Lena guessed were her apartment keys, some loose change and a wad of used bus tickets joined the mess on the ground between them. 

It was an impressive amount of stuff, Lena concluded after she’d run a mental tally.

“You don’t believe in purses much, do you?” 

“Not after last night.” 

Hurt was melting away from Kara’s voice, replaced by anger. 

Lena could feel it simmer under the surface, but it was unlike anything that had ever been aimed her way. Kara wasn’t mad at her  _ specifically _ , but at the not-at-all subtle insinuation she had come searching for her whilst harboring ulterior motives. 

“Okay, let’s start over.” She collected everything Kara had let fall on the ground and placed it in a neat pile out of the way. “Sit. I’ll fetch you something dry. There’s a table with chairs to your—” 

Kara didn’t let her finish. Using her cane for support she picked herself up, and traversed the room as though she’d been there a hundred times before. Or had somehow regained the use of her eyes. 

“Sound bounces differently on furniture.” She explained, clearly aware of Lena’s surprised expression. Leaning the white cane against the side of the table, she sat down, her blue eyes deceivingly alert. “I didn’t come to expose you. Or to chase a story down. I wanted to warn you.” She continued, her cheeks flushing slightly. “They’re running the statue thing as an oddity, but you must be more careful. I—” She huffed, obviously wanting to say more but struggling with the order of her words. 

Lena took that as her cue to retreat further into her nest. Kara was a bit broader than her at the shoulders, taller by a few inches as well, but the clothes needn’t fit her as though tailored. Only keep her from catching a chill. Her kind was so, so  _ fragile _ .

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Kara finished in a near whisper.

“Why?” It was Lena’s turn to be irritated. She did her best to curb it. It wasn’t Kara’s fault that she and kindness had grown so estranged she didn’t know what to do when she was the subject of it. “I’m sorry. I am… unused to… people.” 

“For a moment I thought you were going to say  _ compassion _ , and would have called bullshit on that one.” Lena wanted to argue, but Kara went on, nipping her protests in the bud. “You saved me. You risked exposure for a stranger. That qualifies as being kind, even if I get the sense you may not see it that way.” 

“Fine.” Lena placed the clothes she’d bundled in an old towel on the table with more force than was necessary or intended, and immediately regretted it. “Whatever. Why don’t you change? I’ll get my first aid kit.” She paused, long enough to eye the cut on Kara’s temple. “That shouldn’t need any stitches, but you can’t go on bleeding all night.” On  _ borrowed  _ clothes, but she didn’t add that.

Hastily, before Kara could say something else, she turned her back on her, stomping to the bookshelf. Rain washed against the side of the deserted building, pattered loudly against the dirty glass of the few windows she hadn’t boarded up. It still wasn’t enough to drown out the sucking sound of fabric being pulled from wet skin, and it took Lena all of her willpower not to turn and stare. 

The snakes on her head were not under the spell of such compunction, and a few openly strained toward the mortal.

“Stop ogling,” Lena mouthed, too low for Kara to hear. “ _ διεστραμμένοι _ . _ [perverts] _ ” 

What she was looking for was at the bottom of the bookshelf, a wooden box big enough it had an entire shelf for itself. Lena could simply lift it and bring it to the table, but she fidgeted a few moments longer, wiping the lid with the edge of her sleeve. She was still wearing her coat and it was just as well; dust stuck to the damp cloth in broad, grey smudges. 

Despite routinely replenishing its contents, Lena hadn’t put what was in the box to use in centuries. Touching the worn wood was enough to bring old pain to the surface. Memories she’d thought she had managed to forget — or at least lock safely away where they could do no harm — flashed in front of her eyes, and she had to ground herself through breathing.

It was no use. 

The face floated up from the depth of her consciousness, its features blessedly blurred by the passage of time. A child’s face, waxen with an illness that had burned them from within. That Lena had failed to heal. 

And after, as it always did, came the mother’s voice, raw with her grief. Calling her lost child’s name. Rising in invocation to the gods who could— who had— 

The snakes shook their tiny heads in unison with hers. Lena would walk the path of memory no further. 

The task at hand, then. That was easier. It was something she could cling to, fill her thoughts with. 

“Are you dressed?” She threw over one shoulder, even though she could have asked the snakes to let her know.

“Yes. You can, ah, look.” 

Lena turned, pleased to find that the clothes she’d lent Kara — an oversized hoodie and a pair of slacks she’d gotten from an online thrift shop — fit her better than imagined.

The towel, Kara had draped over her shoulders to catch the water still dripping from her hair. It was already soggy in places, but Lena had a few more stowed somewhere, if needed. 

“Tilt your head back a bit, please.” Lena said, pressing a folded piece of clean gauze to Kara’s cheek. “Hold this here while I boil water. That way you won’t bleed all over yourself.” 

Kara did as she was told, and even after Lena had pulled away, where the mortal’s fingers had briefly touched her skin tingled. It was…  _ odd _ . A gentle surge of inexplicable sensation where there should be none. 

Where she ought to be as unyielding as the stone her gaze could transform human flesh into. 

There was a vague recollection of warmth, engraved into her bones. A filigree running so fine along the nooks and crannies of her spine, Lena had forgotten all about it until Kara’s hand brusquely reminded her of its existence. Sunlight, hot on her skin. Kara’s presence made her think of that.

Perhaps she’d felt it when they’d come into contact the other times as well, but her out-of-tune nerve endings had failed to send the memo to her brain.

“Uh, Lena?” She was jolted back to the present by the unmistakable chattering of teeth. “I don’t…” Kara pushed through clenching jaws, each word mangled. “I don’t feel very good.” 

And, giving her no further warning, she tipped forward. 

What was it that mortals always said in times like these? 

Ah, yes.

“Fuck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [join me on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay nonsense!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Lena get closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back. Next update on January 11th.
> 
> \- Dren

“Kara!” Lena didn’t know how she covered the distance that separated her from the mortal quickly enough to catch her, but she managed. 

Barely. 

Her hands closed around Kara’s shoulders, and kept her from slipping out of the seat, but she felt boneless under Lena’s touch. Without the support she wouldn’t be able to stay upright.

“Ugh.” 

Something halfway between a grunt and a sigh left Kara’s mouth, and Lena pressed closer. Propping Kara up with her hip so that her hands were free, she cupped her face, tilting it toward the one source of light — a portable lamp that sat in the middle of the table — to better examine the injury. 

A cursory inspection confirmed her first impressions. The cut was shallow, but like all wounds to the scalp it was bleeding a lot. The edges were a little frayed, and the flesh immediately surrounding the injury was tender, swelling with fluid under her fingers. 

It’d turn into a spectacular bruise come morning, but not something to warrant such a reaction. 

Lena poked a bit harder, and Kara groaned. 

“Ow.” She tried to wince away, but Lena was far, far stronger than she and didn’t let her.

“Oh good, you’ve not fainted on me.” Lena masked her disquiet behind sarcasm, but the snakes betrayed her nerves — the little buggers. 

As Lena hovered, a few darted forward, the bravest of them brushing against pale skin. One in particular — which Lena knew was the same who’d dared touch the mortal the night of their first encounter from the single gold-hued scale on top of its head — went as far as to lick the stray drops of blood that painted the girl’s cheek red.

A flicker of tongue, darting out to misbehave before Lena could swat the snake aside, not unkindly.

“ _ Stop that _ .” Her lips moved without sound, subvocalizing. 

She braced for the scream. The horror that would widen the eyes until they showed the white. 

Kara’s soft, amused giggle completely disarmed her.

“I’m sorry but—”Her speech was slurred in places, as though she’d had too much to drink. A concussion? “— but they’re so  _ cute _ .” Kara finished, another giggle ending the sentence instead of proper punctuation.

The snakes bobbed enthusiastically. Up and down. Up and down, falling over themselves as they basked in the unexpected praise. 

Lena, however, didn’t allow herself to be so easily sidetracked. 

She held Kara by the chin, and peered into her eyes, frowning as she searched for signs of trauma. 

Not a concussion, she concluded shortly after, and straightened with a sigh. Something else. 

Kara’s eyes were a clear blue, or as clear as sightless eyes could be. Lena hadn’t previously noticed it, but a veil had been drawn across her pupils. Almost invisible to the naked eye, she saw it only because the light of the lamp hit the mortal’s face at an angle. A morning fog that would never lift. 

“I think it’s passed,” Kara blinked up at her, her voice regaining strength. “It was so weird. I felt tingly all over for a moment, but cold. Like I was coming down with something.” Lena let her go, reluctantly at that, the snakes opening their mouths to show their discontent. 

“ _ Enough _ .” Aloud. “Let me put the water on, then I think it’s best if we move you somewhere more comfortable. Just to be safe.” She added, when it was obvious Kara wanted to insist that she was fine. 

The mortal wavered on the brink of protest a moment longer before offering the barest nod. It wasn’t out of stubborness; she’d gone a trifle white around the eyes, and lines of pain dug deep grooves on her bloodied forehead. Her gaze had dropped to her right hand like she could see what was in it. The piece of gauze Lena had given her, spattered red. 

But that wasn’t what Kara was focusing on. She was rubbing the tips of her fingers together. Chasing a tactile memory, the ebbing feeling of a touch. Static, building underneath layers of wool. 

Lena’s own skin throbbed in sympathy. So sharp were the needles piercing it she had to throw a hand over her mouth to push back a gasp. 

When they had touched, something had happened to them both. Not just to her.

Setting the thought aside for later dissection was not as hard as she had feared. There were things that needed doing, and Lena had always been better with tending to the physical anyhow. 

The stove was a bit finicky in damp weather, and it took longer than usual to start it up — not helped by the fact that her attention was split between what she was doing and keeping an eye on Kara. The snakes proved to be helpful in that sense, half a dozen pairs of bright green eyes checking on (checking out) the mortal at all times. 

After some sputtering, a blue tinged flame was coaxed to life, and having filled the kettle up Lena placed it on the stove to heat its contents. She didn’t know what the building had been used for in its heyday — offices maybe, and a number of other things — but what mattered was that whoever owned the property now hadn’t bothered shutting down utilities. 

She poured some of the water out before it could boil, so that it'd be warm enough to clean Kara’s face with, but not burning. The rest, she put back on the stove; they could have tea, once the wound was seen to. 

Back at the table, Kara sat the same way she had left her, shoulders a bit slumped and head lowered. She looked better, not so pale anymore. Present. 

“I’m going to clean the cut up first.” Kara tipped her face up, allowing Lena access. She dipped another piece of linen in the bowl and swept it across the unbroken skin of Kara’s cheek to begin with. Some of the blood had had time to crust a little and it came away in red-brown flecks. Nearer the wound, however, it was fresh. Still running from the gash, albeit in a trickle. 

“Hmmm.” She dabbed at the wound itself with care, noting how, now that it was cleaned, it revealed itself to be slightly more serious than she’d thought. “It will need a stitch or two after all.” 

“Okay.” The show of bravery Kara put up at her statement was admirable, really, but what color had returned to redden her cheeks dissolved. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and rolled her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “I’m not a big fan of needles.” 

“I’m going to be gentle.” Following gold-scale’s lead, a handful of other snakes stretched forward as accordions, booping Kara’s nose. Her cheeks. A hesitant smile returned. “But it’s best if we move you somewhere else, then. Just in case.”

The bed was a quirk of Lena, more than anything. She used it rarely, preferring naps on her reading chair when she was in the mood for sleep. Deeper slumber brought on dreams, washed out memories she’d rather soon forget all together. 

Yet she clung to these fragments of normalcy the way a drowning man grasped at a piece of flotsam. To keep afloat, head above the surface of the water a tad longer. 

For Lena, in theory, that meant forever. 

The kettle shrieked, and leaving Kara to sit on the bed, Lena took the time to pull it off the flame. She recovered her medical kit too, spending a moment more to calm her thoughts. The lamp she brought along last, setting it close by but out of the way.

Inside the box, things were as she had left them. Packets of dried herbs, a jar of honey. A mortar with its pestle to make poultices. Long nosed tweezers, an assortment of scalpels. The suture kit tucked away in a corner. It was a blend of new and old. A lot of the instruments had come with her from the old world — Europe as they called it now — but she hadn’t stocked catgut in… oh it must be long if she’d forgotten. Silk and nylon were easier to purchase, Could be kept longer. 

“Turn your head to the side.” Kara didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she’d heard Lena open the suture kit holding the needle and thread she’d screwed her eyes shut, visibly nervous. 

“Try to breathe.” Kneeling on the floor wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Lena used the tissue forceps that came with the kit to expose the skin toward the end of the right side of the wound, working the needle through it quickly. She repeated the process for the left side, hands moving with practiced ease. It was short work, like she’d promised, but by the time she was done Kara was panting, fingers dug into the bedding. 

“Alright.” Lena threw the dirty instruments in the bowl to be boiled later on. The water turned a feeble pink with residual blood. 

She ripped open another pack of sterile gauze and taped it onto the sutured wound so that no dirt was going to get into it before it was properly healed. “Change the gauze once a day, and a week from now you can have the stitches removed.” Kara nodded, eyes still shut. “If you notice suppuration or abnormal swelling go to the ER. I’ve cleaned it well, but you can never be too careful.” 

“Is it alright if I don’t move just yet?” The mortal roused herself enough to ask, eventually. “It didn’t hurt that much, but I imagined the whole process and…”

“And you feel a little queasy.” Lena finished for her. She placed what didn’t need to be washed or disposed of back inside the box and stored it underneath the bed. Returning it to its proper place on the bookshelf could wait. Certain things — rituals and ancient ingrained habits — she wanted to be alone for. 

“Of course it’s fine.” Lena cocked her head to listen; the storm was raging as though it harbored a grudge. “There’s nowhere else to be tonight, not with this weather.” That had come out wrong. Being old and bitter was not an excuse to forego the rules of hospitality. “I’ll make tea.” She added, doing her best to sand down her edges. Wanting Kara to feel welcome. “I may have some biscuits to go with it, but don’t get your hopes up.” 

***

Kara sank into the bedding, eyes still closed. She hadn’t needed to shut them in the first place, but the thought of the needle had been too sharp in her mind not to. 

Now that she was sheltered from it and dry, the sound of rain was soothing to her ears. The sky, singing to her with a liquid voice. It was late — well past midnight — and it took real effort not to let herself be lulled to sleep.

Lena was moving somewhere to her left; china clicked gently, and a fragrant scent drifted to her nose. Tea. Not overly sweet, but with a hint of summer trapped in the crushed leaves. 

The sheets had a distinct smell as well, not what popular myth associated with snakes — she’d heard people use words such as  _ cold _ , and  _ alien  _ to describe it after having visited the reptile section of the zoo — but  _ other  _ nonetheless. Saturating the pillow her head was resting on, was the woody aroma of sandalwood, sweetly accented. 

Lena’s scent, and Kara couldn’t help but breathe it in, burying her face in the yielding padding until her lungs were full of it. 

She ought to be terrified, really, but she wasn’t. When she’d first figured out what Lena must be — a mere hunch it had been in the light of day, one even Winn would have laughed off as loony — fear had brushed its icy fingers down her spine. But Lena would have already hurt her if she wished to; Kara may be immune to a gorgon’s gaze, but there were other ways and she’d been at her mercy. 

Lena had protected her instead, and that was what had pushed Kara to try and do the same. 

(her silly crush had nothing to do with it.)

Had the gorgon been paying any mind to her, she would not have been so daring, but knowing she was safe on the bed, Lena had directed all of her attention to making them tea. 

Besides, Kara always could tell when someone’s back was turned. Gazes had a weight, and the more intent the mind behind it, the more it could be felt. 

“Do they have names?” She asked, sitting up when footsteps approached. “The snakes, I mean.” The stitches pulled if she moved her head too suddenly or frowned, so although her first instinct was to eagerly lean forward, she forced her features into a more sedated display of curiosity. 

“I never thought to give them one.” Lena sat next to her without touching, her energy making the fine hairs of Kara’s body rise regardless. “They just… are. As I am. A part of me. An extension. We are one.” 

“Well, they should have names.” Kara accepted the tea with gratitude, letting the steam drift up into her nose. Thanks to the borrowed clothes, she was not so cold anymore, and holding the hot cup in her hands helped keep the dampness of the night at bay. “They seem to have their own personalities anyway.” 

Lena made a sound deep in her throat that could be taken as a chuckle. 

“That they do.” She agreed after some time, what Kara would describe as a happy  _ swishing  _ following the admission. 

“Would you tell me about them?” There were so many questions Kara was burning up to ask, but she wasn’t sure what would be proper. Lena’s hands on her brow had been precise. Clinical. 

She knew a lot about doctors, having been in and out of hospitals for the entirety of her childhood. Passed on from one specialist to the next, all different in temperament, but with the same steady hands. Shining lights she could not see into her eyes. Sometimes cutting into them in an attempt to offer her a glimpse of the world everyone else saw. 

A simple question —  _ were you a healer? _ — would be enough to confirm Kara’s suspicions, but it felt somehow too close. Too personal. Lena came off as a snake in that regard; out in the sun, but ready to slink back into the high grass at the first sign of danger or intrusion. 

Kara didn’t want to frighten her away.

The snakes on her head were a safer topic, she thought. 

“What would you like to know?” Lena’s gaze was as heavy as a hand pressed to her cheek.

“What they look like for example.” The tea was still too hot to drink, but Kara took a sip anyway, trying to mask the blush that was creeping across her cheeks behind the rim of the cup. The taste was light, flowers in bloom with a note of something smokier underneath. It lined her throat with heat, like a fine whiskey, when she gulped it down.

“They’re black, and have green eyes.” Lena supplied dutifully. “I wouldn’t know what else to say about them.” She paused, but the silence wasn't strained. Rather, it was thoughtful. “Oh, well, aside from the fact they don’t always listen to me.” 

Outraged hissing drowned her out, and unable to stop herself, Kara reached out toward the sound. Immediately, several heads, triangular in shape like arrows, rubbed against her palm. 

“Exhibit A.” Lena mumbled, and Kara could perceive she’d crossed her arms over her chest. Her tone was defensive, tinged with heat, but if she was angry it wasn’t directed at Kara. More like she was at war with a part of herself Kara could only catch a flashing image of. 

Much to the snakes’ disappointment, she withdrew her hand and cleared her throat apologetically.

“Did it upset you when I touched them?” 

“No. Just— I—” The gorgon stumbled over each word the way one falls down a set of stairs. Head-first, and giving no sign as to when they will come to a stop. Kara had to choke the sound that wanted to claw out of her throat. Fucking adorable. “I’m used to disgust. Hatred. This...you… you’re unfamiliar territory.” 

Kara wanted to tell Lena she better get used to it, but a sudden yawn nearly split her face in two. It shouldn’t surprise her to be this tired. She’d been wound up all day, a spring coiled way too tight. 

The hours at work had dragged without her being able to concentrate for more than a handful of minutes at a time. 

Of course, the story she’d really wanted to write if only to muddy up the waters and cover Lena’s tracks, had been given to Siobhan, Snapper’s pet journalist and office nuisance, while she was stuck covering National City’s Fashion Week. Which, considering her own sense of fashion was a questionable management choice in Winn’s opinion. 

Anyhow, she spent her workday aggressively slamming the backspace button on her keyboard, forced to listen as Siobhan rattled off hypotheses one more ludicrous than the last. The statue was the work of a new street artist. The statue was a message for the wanted man it depicted. It was the government, testing a new weapon. 

The last came dangerously close to the truth, and Kara tensed, relaxing only when Siobhan downgraded the entire affair to a Halloween stunt. 

The adrenaline of her search had kicked in after hours. Snapper  _ did  _ leave in the same sour mood he’d come in because of the Chronicler, but once he’d stomped home at 5pm and only the junior positions were left in the bullpen, a silent agreement had been reached.

Collectively, they decided they were going to cover for each other and left the office at a reasonable hour. (it wasn’t like Snapper could fire three quarters of his workforce after all.) 

Kara had been so keen on finding Lena she basically skipped dinner. No wonder then that fatigue had finally caught up to her. 

“Why don’t you lie down?” The cup, now empty, was taken from her, and Lena gently tipped her back onto the bed. “A couple hours of rest will keep you from nursing a headache all day tomorrow.” 

Kara fought to cling to consciousness a few moments longer. When Lena made to stand, her hand shot out, grabbing the gorgon’s wrist. 

“Wait.” She slurred, her tongue three sizes too big, “Stay?” 

Silence fell at her request, the air so utterly still she began to think Lena had vanished. Blinked out of existence as a dove or a rose when the magician snaps his fingers. 

Maybe all of this was a dream. Maybe she’d hit her head when the mugger had thrown her to the ground. Right now, for all she knew, Kara could be in a coma. In the hospital, hooked up to machines that were keeping her alive while she dreamt of men turning to stone and kind gorgons coming to her rescue. 

Fear seized her by the throat. Bit down.

“Please?” How could it be a dream when Lena’s skin against hers was so real? 

“Alright.” The exhale was underlined by the rattle of the cups being set aside. Moments later the bed dipped, the mattress sagging to take both of their weight. 

It wasn’t as big as the one Kara had at home, but there was enough room for them both if nobody started throwing elbows.

Soon enough, it became clear there was no danger of that happening. Lena was as stiff as a board, arms rigid. Kara wondered briefly if that was how gorgons slept, and tried to imagine it in her mind’s eye. Lena’s eyes — which she guessed must be as green as the snakes’ — closing. The mass of sleek bodies that crowned her head curling around her, framing her face. The thicker snakes resting their heads on her collarbones, as if to hug her. 

But Lena wasn’t sleeping. Her breaths, too shallow and fast, gave her away. 

Call it another hunch, or instinct, but whatever it was, it drove Kara to extend a hand again. The gap to bridge was minimal, the touch a fleeting skim of knuckles against the back of Lena’s hand, but sparks raced up her arm from it regardless. 

Color, which to her wasn’t color really, but she lacked a better term, flashed behind her eyes too, the way she made herself do as a kid. Back then she’d plant her elbows on the table and rub her eyes with the heels of her hands until something other than  _ absence  _ was impressed into her eyelids.

_ Phosphenes  _ the medical term was, but these were different from what she remembered. 

They floated across the void behind her eyes, how Alex had told her embers flew up from an open fire. Kara stared, enthralled. 

Unaware that her hand had closed around Lena’s until the gorgon shifted, a snake shyly draping across her shoulder. Nosing at her jaw. 

“Kara? Kara, are you okay?” 

“Y— yeah.” She almost told Lena what had happened, but it was fading already, and the gorgon didn’t seem to have shared in the experience. Kara truly must be tired if she was imagining things. There was no need, not with a legend in the flesh laying next to her. “Could I name them? The snakes.” Each syllable was effort. Like pulling teeth. 

“Perhaps.” Lena answered, noncommittally. “But you should sleep first.” Something — fingertips? —- traced her cheek. “Sleep, Kara.” 

Conjured by Lena’s lilting voice sleep rose and pulled her under.

***

Getting in bed with Kara had been a mistake. 

It wasn’t sexual, of course. Nothing like that. But still. Making matters worse, when the mortal brushed her hand Lena had experienced it again. A  _ softening _ . A lifting of the numbness she’d had thousands of years to become accustomed to. 

So much so it was like armor to her now. Without it she was naked. 

_ Fragile  _ was the word that sprung to mind.

Transparent. Heard-through like the feeble sound a glass makes when one runs a wet finger along the rim. 

But it had passed now. Everything was back the way it should. The valerian she’d slipped in Kara’s tea had kicked in too — not a minute too soon — and next to her the mortal slumbered, snoring softly. 

Lena did her best not to linger on how  _ cute _ that was.

She felt a bit guilty about the drugging, even though it had been for Kara’s benefit. They’d known one another only a short while, but the young woman’s mind was bright. Too keen for her own good. Without the spiked tea she’d have tried to stay awake all night to ask her questions. 

Lena wasn’t opposed, but she had been without company for so long… she could take it only in small doses. What she’d told Kara was the truth. This, all of it, was as unknown waters to her. 

Sink or swim — one was as likely as the other.

There had been others like Kara. Others who couldn’t see, who couldn’t be horrified by her looks or transformed to stone by accident, but the one time she’d taken a risk and revealed herself, rejection had been her due.

But this time — it could be different, this time. 

Lena didn’t want to think too hard on it, deathly afraid that if she held onto the idea too tightly it would shatter. Slip through her fingers like sand.

Instead, she filled her mind with inconsequential thoughts. 

For example, seeing the square of sky framed by the window start to pale, she wondered why it was said that dawn rose, but night fell. 

Lena knew better. She’d had a million dusks to observe. Night  _ rose  _ as well, a dark smudge under the sun. Its secret shadow. Smoke from hidden fires the star itself burned whilst it dipped past the horizon. 

But men disliked the idea. Night was for the monsters such as she, and so it fell. A curtain. A blade. The whistle of the axe warning humanity to stay the fuck inside, next to their fires. 

She thought of this and other things, but when aurora extended pink fingers across the place she called her home, the body curled into her side became impossible to ignore. The light of day made Kara solid. It made her  _ real _ . 

The normalcy of lying in bed with another snuck upon her from the side similar to an ambush. A blade slipped between the ribs. 

It was the snakes that took matters into their own… bodies was the best suited descriptor. They interpreted her unspoken desires, draping over Kara’s chest and shoulders gingerly. Forcing Lena’s own body into a hug.

(but, oh, did she go willingly.)

With Kara safely tucked against her chest, she tried to recall the last time she'd held another living, breathing creature in her arms and couldn't.

It was for the best then, that nobody else was there to see her cry. Grey tears, that smudged her face like warpaint before turning to dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking for things to do as we slip into lockdown hell part two? Want more smut? 
> 
> Follow the link [on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay shenanigans!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snakes get their names and Lena tries to convince herself she totally isn't starting to like Kara a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd update on the 11th, but we've had a pretty shitty and scary week so I thought - why not today? 
> 
> \- Dren

Living amongst humans was an art Lena had had to master quickly. 

The slowest ones among her kind — the other creatures that mortals thought existed only in stories — were long gone. Killed by their own foolishness or by spear and wicked sword. 

Worst of all the times she’d had to live through had been the age of the Inquisition. Many had been burned. 

Satyrs, forest creatures whose one fault was to resemble the fallen angel of Christianity, were hunted into extinction. Nymphs had been torn from their sylvan lairs under the charge of witchcraft.

That some of the men who did the dragging and the burning had sought their advice in matters of healing and fortune telling didn’t seem to hold much weight upon the scales. 

Still, in older times, with less people living in one place and no means for news to travel quickly, things had been a little easier.

Modernity however had several good sides as well. Like the fact she could order Kara’s breakfast remotely, and that curbside pickup remained a thing despite the latest pandemic having been finally dealt with.

The storm had wrought so much havoc overnight, that people were too busy assessing damage to spare her more than a glance. Nobody would have been able to peer inside her deep hood anyhow, and the facemask she’d put on disguised her further. Another change the epidemic had left behind, some people wearing masks although it wasn’t needed or mandated any longer. 

Lena had heard that in some asian countries that had been the norm, even before. 

By the time she’d gotten back — a mix of sweet and savory foodstuffs in the paper bag she carried — Kara was awake, if a little groggy. 

Lena found her sitting at the table, fingers running back and forth along the grain of the wood. Her eyes were shut halfway, and sleep had not yet completely lifted from her face. It reminded Lena of other, better times. When she used to wake before — 

She shied away from the stray thought like it was poisonous.

A little blood had seeped through the gauze Lena had used to cover up the cut on Kara’s temple. It would need redressing before the mortal went to sleep in her own house that night, and Lena would make sure to give Kara some poultice for when the stitches came out. That’d help with the scarring. 

“Lena?” 

All was quiet around them, but Kara must have smelled the food, and figured out who it was. If discovering Lena had been gone for a bit had upset her, she didn’t show.

“Here.” She scuffed her feet deliberately, Kara’s head turning her way. “I went to get you some food.” 

“Oh.” Kara cleared her throat, looking flustered. “You didn’t have to.” And then, worry edging her tone. “What if you were seen?” 

“No danger of that, at least today, but I avoid going out during the day unless I absolutely have to.” 

Setting the bag down atop the table, Lena began to lift styrofoam containers out of it. All of it smelled good, and she considered having a bite to eat to accompany the cup of coffee she’d picked up for herself. That had been a last minute addition upon placing the order. Lena liked tea the best, but she’d figured that not getting anything to share with Kara might come across as rude. 

For some reason, the idea that the mortal could think of her that way, deeply upset her. 

Still somewhat perturbed by the inner turmoil similar thoughts had caused to her earlier that morning, Lena steered her mind back to what she was doing. 

It was just as well it took her a few minutes to lay all of the food out.

She shouldn’t be surprised by the sheer amount there was — she’d been the one to place the order — but the bag a harried-looking staffer handed her right outside the diner had failed to appropriately convey quantity. Her strength, which far exceeded that of a mortal, didn’t help matters.

There seemed to be no end to the containers, and although Kara couldn’t see what was being laid out in front of her, her nose was twitching, overwhelmed by the barrage of different smells.

Perhaps, Lena had gone slightly overboard. 

It must be the fact that, while she could eat, she hadn’t felt the need to do so in a decade, and thus it was hard to judge the portions. 

Although it did nothing for her in terms of nourishment, she didn’t dislike eating. It was the symbolism of it, the sacrality it carried for somebody as old as she, a sense of ritual the modern world seemed to have left behind.

Besides, food hit differently when you had nobody to share it with. 

When men gathered around a table it meant fellowship. In her infancy, breaking fast together had been a gesture of hospitality. Even mortal enemies couldn’t be touched after bread and salt were shared. 

Unable to decide on a few dishes, and not sure about Kara’s personal taste, Lena had picked out a bit of everything. 

A breakfast burrito big enough to qualify as artillery munition sat next to stacks of pancakes. Another container held waffles and bacon, while a mushroom and veggies omelette with a side of hashbrowns filled two more. 

“This might just be a little too much food.” She commented mostly to herself, as she sat down on the empty chair across from Kara. Tugging one of the containers to herself, she sniffed at its contents deciding that a bit of toast with butter and jam had never hurt anyone. 

One sip of her coffee told her that the beans had been overtoasted. On the way back from the diner the liquid had had enough time to turn lukewarm, and the residual heat could scarcely mask the coffee’s bitterness.

She considered adding a packet of sugar to it, but when she looked for one Lena found they had all been opened (there had been at least six, she’d counted) with Kara in the act of dunking the contents of the last into her own drink. 

“I have a sweet tooth.” The mortal offered as justification, feeling observed. 

“You’ll have diabetes too, if you’re not careful.” 

Kara spluttered. 

“I guess the fact I didn’t really have dinner before I came to find you is catching up to me.” She admitted, raising her paper cup to hide a blush. “I was so wired I kinda forgot.” 

That would explain both while the valerian in the tea had acted so quickly — there had been nothing in Kara’s stomach at the time to soak it up — and the restlessness. 

As it turned out, Kara was an active sleeper. The throwing elbows kind of active.

“Eat then.” She encouraged, mollified, and seeing the shine of countless questions in Kara’s eyes she added. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk once you’re not hungry anymore.”

There was no need to repeat herself twice. 

Kara went through the burrito first. Her eating was methodical. Purposeful. Lena had thought of offering to cut the food for her, but it soon became apparent there really was no need. 

If anything, even if well meant, Kara might have mistaken it for pity. 

She’d already proven, beyond the shadow of a doubt, to be resourceful. Brave as well. Of course, Kara had been shaken by the attempted robbery, and who wouldn’t have been in her position? To discover that the streets she must have been walking a thousand times could hide an ambush must have been terrifying. 

The quickness with which she’d accepted Lena escorting her home. Kara’s offer to make her coffee or tea — surely in an effort to repay her for the help — but perhaps indicative of the desire not to be left alone as well. 

And yet, the next night, Kara had decided to revisit the spot of the attack, putting Lena’s wellbeing above her own. 

She was grateful beyond words, and breakfast only went a small way in repaying the debt she felt she had to Kara. Not that she  _ needed  _ to be protected — a discovery the mugger had paid for with his life — but she had to (reluctantly) admit it warmed her that somebody did want to.

By the time she’d nibbled half a piece of toast, the burrito had vanished. Kara pulled a stack of pancakes to herself next and began its demolition. Her pace had slowed down, Lena noticed, enough to start a conversation.

“So, could I name the snakes?” Kara asked, waving the fork in her general direction. A piece of pancake was balanced precariously on it, not quite speared through, but she somehow managed to pop it into her mouth before it could go to waste on the table.

Lena decidedly liked it better when her mouth was full.

Forgetting herself enough to take a sip of awful coffee, she frowned. The flavor was only worsening with the passage of time, but drinking gave her an excuse to not reply right away. 

No one else before had ever taken that much interest in the snakes, but then again the ones who had crossed Lena’s path were taken by the stone within two steps. 

Although quick, it was a horrible kind of death. Every last cell turned to stone in a matter of seconds. The lungs first, an unbearable heaviness enveloping the victim’s chest until they could not breathe. Then the numbness spread like venom from a bite. But not across the bloodstream. 

Lena didn’t know the exact nature of the process, but she compared it to a shadow that extended from her until the lives it touched had been totally obscured. 

Men talked in hushed whispers about a kind of elapid snake — two-steps they called it — that could, or so they believed, kill as fast as she. Lena knew that for what it was worth; a rumor spread by fearful men who couldn’t understand what they experienced. 

Similar falsehoods were told about her kind too, and many of the beings humans grouped inside the neat box labelled as “legends”.

Biting off another piece of toast, the sweetness of the jam helping her to stomach the coffee, Lena used the lull in conversation to examine how she felt a bit more closely. 

She couldn’t deny that Kara’s attentions put her on edge. Mostly, she wasn’t sure how to react. She longed for the companionship Kara’s presence offered, but at the same time was wary of it. A dog that had received one too many kicks would act the same.

The snakes atop her head, however, seemed well pleased by the prospect of being named. Lena couldn’t find it in herself to blame them. 

Loveless, alone, she’d wandered the Earth. Even though they couldn’t speak, the snakes were her companions, and she was now ready to admit refusing them a name had been steeped in resentment. 

But the creatures on her head were not to blame for Lena’s fate. In fact, it wasn’t hard at all for her to remember the beginning. The early nights she’d spent in the wilderness of Chios, lost and cast out from the things she had known all of her life. 

The first one she would never forget, no matter how many more years may pass until her end. She’d been scared, running for her life. Running away from all that she had known, forever. 

She had been sure she would not survive to see the morning, and the thunder — a clear sign of Zeus’s displeasure toward her — appeared to indicate that much as well. 

When her strength finally abandoned her, and the horror of her condition ran her through, Lena had curled up underneath a tree to wait for the end. And the snakes on her head had wrapped around her; to protect her, to comfort her the only way they could.

It was time to let go of her grudge.

“ _ Λυπάμαι _ . _ [I’m sorry] _ ” The word took form in her throat, it swelled and vibrated on her tongue but never made it past her lips. The snakes heard and understood. A few curved downward to peck tiny snake-kisses on her cheeks. 

“I guess there’d be no harm in that.” She sighed, and pushed the half full cup of coffee to the side, giving up on it entirely. 

At Kara’s squee of delight she had to fight down a smile. Capitulation wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined after all. “And after maybe you could tell me how you figured out what — well, what I am.” 

“Of course.” Kara nodded along. Food forgotten, at least for a little while, she bounced out of her seat to round the table. Once she’d gotten near enough she crouched down, to better reach the snakes. 

Sensing that the moment of their naming was upon them, they writhed whichever way, and some — the biggest ones — snapped at the others, fighting over which of them should go first. 

“None of that.” Kara warned before things could get too out of hand. “Everyone’s gonna get a name, I promise.” 

The snapping immediately ceased, a wave of embarrassment coming from the snakes. 

That could happen sometimes; Lena feeling their emotions or they experiencing hers. 

What she’d told Kara, that the snakes were an extension of her being wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the complete truth, either. In moments of great distress, or peril, even happiness (although if she couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt any measure of the latter) the snakes, attuned ast they were to her thoughts, would react accordingly. 

Them, she perceived a trifle differently. It was like having an ever whispering crowd tucked away at the back of her skull. Their thoughts never took the shape of words, or if they did she couldn’t hear them; they were flashes — a scent, the fleeting image of how they saw the world.

Now their excitement was palpable. Tiny fireworks went off behind her eyes, sparks of light. Lena could almost hear their crackling —  _ pop, pop, pop _ — echo inside her ears.

When Kara’s fingertips skimmed atop the head of the first snake, as though in benediction, she became too overwhelmed to speak. A shiver ran through her, the  _ softening  _ Lena now connected with the mortal’s touch forcing her to grasp at the edge of the table to keep upright. It wasn’t magic, Lena was positive the mortal was not one with the gift, but something similar. 

The shock of energies combining, added to the bursts of eagerness that came from the snakes’ collective consciousness. It was a feeling of lightheadedness that spiked into something more intense as the mortal’s touch lingered. Lightning forked through all of her nerve endings, but unlike the vengeance-filled javelins of electricity the lord of Olympus cast, this made Lena’s blood sing.

Kara was too engrossed in picking the name of the first snake to notice. 

“Halcyon.” She sentenced after careful study. “Your name is Halcyon.” 

The announcement was greeted by a chorus of happy hisses — the remainder of the snakes clearly approved.

Warmth spread from them to her and back, feeding into itself. A loop of sensation that would be too draining both for Lena and the snakes to interrupt. 

To try and steady herself, she pointed her mind inward, to the memories Kara’s action had bubbling to the surface. 

In older times, when Lena’s knowledge of the world hadn’t extended past the confines of her native island and the azure waters of the Aegean Sea, it was merchants who brought tales of the outside. 

In order to be able to spot their ships the moment they appeared over the horizon, Lena had memorized the color and shape of each sail. Some were striped. Others — in an attempt to please Poseidon — displayed the likeness of sea creatures. A few bore a woman’s head, crowned by snakes. To ward away pirates, she had been told when she asked. 

Back then, she couldn’t have remotely fathomed its true significance. 

It had been one of the merchants — a port-bellied man by the name of Dorus — to tell Lena about Athens and the customs of its peoples. 

Brightest of all the greek cities, he named it, a seat of art and knowledge. Her described it so vividly Lena could see it before her eyes, and by the time he came to tell her of the  _ Amphidromia _ — the feast during which Athenian progeny received their names — she was hanging on his every word.

Dorus insisted the ceremony was open to everyone who wished to attend, but Lena had been sure the wealthiest families would have invited members of the priesthoods, to curry special favor with the gods for their sons and daughter. 

She thought it silly, for surely the gods had more important things to busy themselves with, only to discover some years later that the black-hearted and vainglorious ones amongst them were all too willing to meddle in human affairs. 

What Kara was doing reminded her of this ceremony she’d heard about but never witnessed, and even if she was not a priestess, she sure looked like one. Cradling each snake’s head with careful fingers, she complimented them for the pattern of their scales, or the shine of their eyes. 

It was true; Kara could not see, but her hands, raking gently through the mass of snakes told her enough. 

“Asklepios.” Kara christened the second, and at that Lena hummed agreement deep in her throat. The mortal may not know, but she was doing her an honor. Certainly she’d picked that moniker because he too had been a healer, but to be compared to the demigod patron of Lena’s craft… 

Perceiving Lena’s satisfaction, the newly named snake reared up past Kara’s hand, to peck her squarely on the lips. A bold move, that brought a strage, prickling heat to Lena’s cheeks and a laugh out of Kara.

“I knew they’d like it.” She cooed, in a pleased  _ I-told-you-so _ tone. Normally, Lena’s hackles would have risen, she’d have been put on the defensive, but her mind was flooded with light. 

Aglow in a radiance that came mostly from the snakes, and that she was scared to define. 

It might be happiness, but she’d forgotten how that felt — how anything other than sadness and regret was like, really — and was afraid that a wrong guess on her part would make it dissipate. 

“Demeter,” Kara called the third, and Barnabas another. 

After, Lena lost track for a while. She couldn’t seem to keep her focus. A fog, golden and ethereal, had descended over her, shrouding her thoughts. 

She blinked back to some semblance of self-awareness when it came time to give gold-scale a name. It was the biggest of the lot, the meanest too when it came to defending Lena’s person. 

But under Kara’s touch — well, if a snake could wiggle, the way a pupper did after receiving praise, or a treat — then it definitely would have. 

“Snakernoodle.” Kara announced proudly, patting it on its head. “It’s a word-play on snickerdoodles,” she added after a short pause. For Lena’s benefit, no doubt. “They’re my favorite type of cookies.”

“I know what snickerdoodles are, and you’re not naming it that.” Lena desperately tried to imbue the sentence with every shred of imperiousness she could muster (not so breathy, damn it!), but failed. 

And not for lack of trying. 

“Oh, come on!” Kara insisted, lower lips trembling on the precipice of a pout. “It’s perfect.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Still no.” 

“Pretty please with sugar on top?” 

“Nu-uh.” Lena crossed her arms over her chest despondently. “Not happening.” 

“Ugh, fine!” Throwing up her hands in surrender, Kara caved. “Lycus then, like the king of Thebes. Surely you won’t object to that?” 

“At least it matches with the others.” Lena groused, doing her best to hold on to whatever dignity she’d left. 

(there wasn’t any.)

“Oh don’t pretend you are offended.” Bending down slightly, Kara placed a kiss on top of gold-scale’s — Lycus’s — head, and Lena had to swallow down what sounded suspiciously similar to a moan. “I could tell you were smiling.” 

“Was not!” 

“Were too!” Softer, in an effort to pitch her voice so low Lena wouldn’t hear, Kara added. “You will always be Snakernoodle to me, no matter what she says. Don’t worry.” 

Lena pretended not to listen, bit the inside of her cheek not to smile. It was all futile.

“Alright, you win. That can be its nickname.”

The brilliant smile that Kara gave her back in turn made her want to say yes to whatever next the mortal asked. 

“It’s my turn to answer your question, now.” 

Lena had almost forgotten about that, but at Kara’s words she nodded, waiting until the mortal had dragged her chair closer and sat down before leaning forward intently. 

“Yes. I would very much like to know how you understood...what I am.” 

“It wasn’t all that hard to figure out,  _ who _ you are, honestly.” The choice of words wasn’t lost on Lena.  _ Who  _ not  _ what _ . Somebody Kara related to, felt a kinship with. “Not after what Winn said.” 

“Winn?” 

“Oh, he’s a colleague of mine. Another journalist.” Kara pulled the abandoned food closer as she spoke, grabbing one of the waffles. Everything had gotten cold, but she didn’t seem to care about it. 

“He mentioned that the statue looked like someone who had a police record, and I thought — if it’s a prank why go to all that trouble?” She shrugged, and used a piece of waffle to soak up the maple syrup at the bottom of the container.

“And the most obvious explanation was a gorgon?” 

“Well, either it was that, or aliens. Or Siobhan’s stupid theory about the military rogue testing some new weaponry on random civilians.” 

“If something such as me can exist, then why not aliens?” 

“Because Winn and Siobhan weren’t there, and I was.” Kara sobered up. Grew quieter. Serious. “And I heard…”

“You heard me kill him.” Lena finished for her, when it was obvious Kara couldn’t. “If it makes you feel any less disgusted with me, I’ve only ever killed in self-defense. Or to preserve the life of another.”

“I know.” Two fingers were pushed against her lips, shushing her. “I don’t know how I do, but… And I heard him die, yes, but I also heard you warn him he should leave. He chose not to. That’s not on you, Lena.”

She had to choke back tears, and still a few itched past her eyes, turning to fine powder halfway down her cheeks. 

“I could be an alien.” She diverted, weakly. Anything to keep the rest of her grief bottled inside. “For all you know there’s an entire species like me, out there.” She gestured to the ceiling above their head for emphasis. 

“No.” Kara’s hand had moved, cradling her jaw. “I mean technically you’re right there must be other forms of life out in the universe, and centaurs could be the inhabitants of Alpha Centauri, but no. When I touch you, I —-” Lena’s breath caught in her throat. “You’re gonna laugh, but sometimes I get this tingly feeling up my arm. And I just know you’re old, but of  _ this  _ earth.” 

She exhaled. 

Should she tell Kara that she felt it too? The tingle, and that inexplicable softening? 

But if she did that, Lena ran the risk of getting entangled with the human and her world even more than she already was. 

_ Would it be so bad? _ The thought came from Lycus, not in any language she had ever known, but in clear images. 

Chiefly among them was how she’d held Kara in her sleep, earlier that same day.  _ Yessss. _ The snake crooned, tempting her. _ That would be nice. _

No. Hers was a fate best endured alone. She couldn’t — wouldn’t — ask Kara to shoulder it with her. The life of solitude, the constant terror of discovery. She felt unfit for it at times; for Kara it’d mean sharing in the risks attached alongside her. 

Inconceivable. 

Having run out of breath, Kara had stopped talking. However, she didn’t pull her hand away, and hesitantly, despite her better judgement, Lena covered it with her own. 

The tears that rattled against her ribs like pebbles, crumbled away. 

Maybe she could be around the mortal a while longer. A few days, until the injury on Kara’s temple had fully healed, and then she’d pack. Move away somewhere else. 

It may hurt Kara, she knew now it’d undoubtedly hurt  _ her _ , but the mortal would move on with her life. Out of danger, eventually, she would forget. 

And there were herbs to help with that, Lena reasoned. If it came to it. She’d be doing her a kindness. 

“I am  _ old _ , you’re not wrong on that one.” 

“Oh, cripes! No! That’s not how I— I must’ve— Fudge, it sounds so awful now that I hear you say it! I’m sure you’re not all that  _ decrepit _ !”

Lena laughed, loud and full-bellied for the first time in three centuries. “Kara it’s okay. I’m not offended.” 

“Oh good.” Kara slouched forward in relief, then reluctantly pulled her hand back. 

She picked through what was left on the table, face slanting with disappointment when she realized she’d eaten her way through it all. 

“I can order you more food, and you can pick it up on the way back to…” Lena trailed off, and throwing a glance to one of the dirty windows, quickly assessed the time. “It’s well past noon, I think. So either a late lunch or an afternoon snack.” 

Honestly, she didn’t know how somebody could eat that much. A giant would have been content with less.

“I took the day off.” Kara reassured. “But you’re right. I should head home, shouldn’t I? I’ve taken up too much of your time.” She hid her disappointment as best as she could, but a drop of it trickled through her tone. 

“You could always come back.” Here Lena was, doing  _ exactly  _ what she’d just advised herself against. “The dressing on your temple will need to be changed.” 

Surely there was no harm in sticking around until Kara was healed. 

Totally.

“Thank you. I’d rather come to you than go to a doctor if it’s not too much trouble. Doctors make me—” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “They make me nervous.”

“It’s not a bother.” Lena had to dig her nails into her palms to keep herself from enveloping Kara into a protective hug. She had never set foot inside of a modern house of healing — hospitals they called them now — but nobody should be so ill at ease when thinking of one. She wondered what had been done to Kara for her to react so strongly to the very idea of one. “In fact, you can come back whenever you want, as long as you’re careful. Night would be best.”

“Thank you.”

Kara leaned in, surprising her again by pressing a timid kiss to her right cheek. 

And, this time for Lena the tingling didn’t ebb away. 

Not even after Kara was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [follow the links on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more stories and gay nonsense!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara discovers something that can put Lena's survival at risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with part 5! Hope you ejoy.
> 
> \- Dren

It took hours for Lena to settle. 

Kara’s presence persisted all around her, burned into her senses like the positive afterimage from a source of light.

The comparison made Lena smile. Kara  _ was  _ a small human-shaped sun, bringing warmth and light with her wherever she went. They’d only spent a handful of hours together, but Lena could already tell. 

After countless years hiding in the forgotten corners of the world, Lena was attracted to the radiance. Scared of it too. A deer coming across a hunter in the woods — frozen by indecision despite knowing that the arrow aimed their way meant certain death. 

To keep her mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t, she set herself the task of straightening her living space, starting with the table. 

There were no leftovers to speak of, so Lena gathered the empty containers in bags — one for paper, one for styrofoam and plastic — and tossed them in a corner to be brought out to the dumpsters after nightfall. 

Next, she wiped the table down with a wet cloth, and once the wood had dried, applied a wad of beeswax to its surface, buffing in the direction of the grain. 

The table was old and slightly warped, gouged by previous careless use. Hickory or oak it was impossible to tell — time and woodworms scarred it beyond any hope of recognition. 

Whilst shopping online for supplies, Lena had come across more serviceable furniture, but in the years she’d spent in National City she’d grown fond of this particular piece.

It was stupid perhaps, becoming so attached to something she’d have to leave behind next time she moved, but Lena couldn’t help herself.

By somewhat mending the disrepair the table had fallen into, the illusion could be maintained that she, too, was salvageable. 

That done, Lena swept the floor despite it being perfectly clean, rearranged jars of herbs that didn’t need rearranging, checked her herb supply three times, even though it didn’t need restocking. 

All to avoid remaking the bed. 

Kara’s presence was even stronger there; the pervasive scent of sleep and bodies cuddling in the dark. 

She combed her living space inch by inch for more to fix or straighten, but eventually making the bed was the only thing left. That, and the box she’d hastily shoved under it the evening before, after tending to the cut on Kara’s brow. 

By the time Lena hesitantly approached the bed, night had fallen over the city. She shouldn’t feel tired — her kind was above tiredness and thirst, hunger and disease — but she did. Weary to her soul, drained by the doubts Kara’s arrival into her existence had instilled inside her mind. 

The path that stretched in front of her, of loneliness and despair, was one she had been thrust upon. Even so, though it took a lot of rage and suffering, she’d made her peace with it. But now, she discovered she didn’t want to follow it anymore. 

And she felt lost. 

Outside the one unblocked window, the moon was rising, brushing past the rooftops. Because of the orange glow of the streetlamps, however, its reflected glory was dimmed. Swallowed up and near erased by the glaring neons of the shops’ signs. 

There had been a time when the moon was regarded as a portent, but with progress the lines between night and day had blurred. Blinded by the glow of its cities, humankind had forgotten about the moon, put the stars out of its mind. 

It was just a hunk of rock, now. A sliver. A blink. Men only dreamed of it in terms of conquest, the memory of the blood their ancestors had spilled to win the moon’s favor wiped away by the passing of time. 

Only beings as old as Lena still recalled.

She remade the bed in haste, almost afraid that touching the blankets for too long would mark her. The shallow dent Kara’s body had imprinted on the mattress was hard to ignore, and Lena reached out, fingers skimming across the place where the mortal had been resting. 

Almost immediately, she snatched her hand back and brought it up to eye level, examining it closely. No blemishes, nor burns. No tingling sensation. 

Rubbing her hands together, Lena straightened and heaved a sigh of disappointment. Another contradiction. How she feared what the tingles may mean, yet yearned to feel them. 

Then, it was time to put the box with her supplies back where it belonged, which was the other thing Lena had done her best to postpone dealing with. 

She dragged it out from underneath the bed, staring at it with pursed lips before carrying it to the middle of the room. 

There she knelt and opened it. 

The surgical instruments she’d used to mend the gash she’d cleaned while Kara was still fast asleep, and putting them away took no time at all. 

As always, Lena made sure the blades and tweezers were secure in their casings before turning her attention to other things. Hard won experience had taught her to be packed and ready for travel at a moment’s notice. And, since the box was one of the few objects she wouldn’t leave behind, she’d made a habit of keeping it nice and tidy at all times.

What she was really looking for lay at the bottom of the box, covered in tightly bound cloth. 

A wooden statue, which had been laquered once. Only traces of color remained, sparks of gilt and midnight blue on the figurine’s flowing cape. It had been in Lena’s possession since Chios. She remembered buying it, if vaguely, but not from whom.

Much of that life was lost to her. The majority of her earlier pilgrimages too. Lena suspected it was a self-preserving mechanism. There was a line inside her mind, like borders on a map, beyond which memories grew blurry. Just flashes of color. Sometimes a face. 

And the few things she remembered clearly were the ones she’d tried her hardest to forget.

Placing the statue on a stretch of moonlit floor, Lena pulled out a small stone basin next. The inside of it was charred and smelled faintly of herbs and the rim was chipped from use. It would serve well for what she had in mind. 

A quick trip to the bookshelf to retrieve a few ingredients and she was ready to begin. It felt senseless to pray to gods she knew wouldn’t listen, or grant a simple blessing. For most of her existence Lena had wanted nothing to do with gods and portents. Her brush with the divine had come with a high price, and she didn’t much care to draw attention to herself again. 

Assuming that some gods were still around to hear.

But tonight she was in need of guidance, of a sign — and for that reason she’d brought the statue out of storage.

The only one she imagined could take an interest, at least long enough to hear her out, was Hecate. One that existed on the fringes, who presided over crossroads and the night. Who cared for all the creatures seeking shelter in the shadows. 

Bits of cedar bark, crushed mugwort and lavender went into the basin. Once satisfied with the quantity, Lena used a flint and steel to set the mix alight. 

Thin ribbons of fire rose from the bowl, the dry bark burning so fast she didn’t even have to blow the flames out. They died on their own, leaving reddish coals and a whiff of fragrant smoke in their wake. 

Blowing over the bowl, Lena sent the smoke to curl around the statue, stilling her mind as she did. Reaching inside herself for the place of quiet at her core, from which she could stare out while the world faded away. 

In her youth she’d had an easier time of it, but back then she’d readily believed in gods and the miracles they worked. Bitterness had made her cynical and jaded, and prayer was hard as a result. Like leaving a sickbed after a long illness to walk on legs that still couldn’t bear full body weight. 

Lena wasn’t sure how long she knelt on the floor, begging for a sign. For anything that would strengthen her resolve. She’d thought her mind made up — stay until Kara was healed, and then move on as she had done countless times before — but the more she contemplated the idea the more she found it flawed. 

She didn’t want to leave, was the thing. It ought to be impossible to yearn this badly for the company of somebody she barely even knew, but Lena’s face twisted, reflecting her internal torment. 

Thanks to her efforts, all traces of Kara’s visit were gone, but Lena felt her anyway. There was no need to close her eyes to picture Kara sitting at the table, or listening as Lena read to her from a book. 

The domesticity of those simple desires was a kick to the teeth, and Lena recoiled. Such ordinary things weren’t meant for her. She shouldn’t want them. Allowing Kara to get too involved with her meant pulling her further and further away from the world she knew. 

A world Lena didn’t belong to. Not anymore.

When it was clear that she’d get no answer to her pleas, Lena climbed back to her feet, grabbing the bowl to safely dispose of its smoldering contents. 

As she smothered the last of the coals, Lena scoffed a little to herself. She should have known it’d be a waste of time. Appealing to the gods hadn’t worked for her, ever. No reason they should start to listen now. 

She was so caught up in her recriminations she completely missed the way moonlight gathered around Hecate’s figure. A nimbus of silvery light cloaked the statue’s shoulders, and spilled across the time-worn features of her serene face in a play of light and shadow that made her lips seemingly twitch.

Like she was smiling.

***

Several days passed before Kara could go see Lena again.

In part she was held back by the fear she’d come off as clingy if she visited too often, but mostly it was work keeping her busy.

Taking one day off meant she had to play catch up with her deadlines, and for a week after the storm she didn’t leave the office before midnight. 

For a week after the storm it kept raining on and off as well, like the weather was doing its best to prevent City Hall from tackling all the damage the first torrential rain had caused. 

Every morning the city woke to sunlight and heaved a collective sigh of relief. Workers in bright vests swarmed the streets, clearing branches, sweeping gutters, mending manholes that too much water pressure had burst open. But, by midday, rain returned — causing more problems some days, other times no more than an annoying drizzle. 

Enough that repairs slowed to a crawl.

Snapper ordered them to hound the Mayor’s office, as though he believed officials were to blame for the weather. He didn’t, obviously, but fabricated outrage always sold more copies than the truth.

The one positive aspect was that the story about the statue had been set aside. Siobhan was too busy pestering the Mayor for a statement to chase dead leads, and filed it away as an oddity. A brief blurb was written about it, before more important news chased it off the media’s radar for good.

On Snapper’s orders, she and Winn spent most of their days out in the city documenting progress, and by the time midnight rolled around, Kara was too dead on her feet to even think of going to Lena’s.

Besides, she didn’t want to show up empty handed. The poultice Lena had given her had done wonders for the injury on her temple, and Kara felt indebted. But any of the things she had thought of bringing Lena seemed inadequate, and served to drive home the fact that Kara didn’t know her at all.

She was having a quick bite at her desk — a short lunch break before she got back to editing the piece on traffic she’d been working on that day — and clicking aimlessly through e-commerce websites in search of something adequate when Winn bumped his chair into hers. 

“Hey!” A glob of her tuna salad  _ splatted  _ on the keyboard. “Just because we’re writing about car accidents we don’t need to replicate them  _ inside _ the office!” She paused long enough to pull her earphones off, effectively muting the voice assistant listing products in her ear. 

“Sorry.”

“You’re not.” Fingers trailing across the keyboard, Kara scooped up the errant piece of food and popped it in her mouth.

“I’m not and you’re disgusting.” Winn laughed, swatting her shoulder. “Really, really gross.” 

“I don’t like wasting food, is all.” She countered, finishing the rest of her lunch before he could make her spill again. “But you’re welcome to wipe down my keyboard if you want.” 

“Fat chance.” There was a rustle — papers Kara thought — then he was talking again. 

“So, you’ve seemed a bit off this week, and honestly considering the sort of work Snapper has us doing—” Winn lowered his voice further, because Siobhan was around and liked nothing more than to snitch on her coworkers to their boss. “But I’ve got something that may cheer you up a bit. About, you know, our  _ side project _ .”

Kara inhaled. 

Their side project.

Investigative journalism. What she’d thought she would be doing when she applied to work at CatCo. 

“Okay, tell me everything.” 

Throwing the empty lunchbox into the garbage, Kara turned her full attention to Winn, reaching out for what he must be holding. “Show me.” She urged, buzzing all over.

“Uh, uh.” Papers whispered together just out of her reach. “You’re not touching our files with your greasy little hands.” 

“Fine.” Kara rolled her eyes. “Then what about a summary?” 

“After work.” Winn proposed. “We can grab dinner at J’onn’s.” 

Kara hesitated. It made sense Winn didn’t want to discuss his findings too openly while in the bullpen — this was the sort of story that could win them both a Pulitzer Prize if they played their cards right — but she was finally ahead with her workload, and had meant to drop by Lena’s place in the evening. Maybe the right idea for a gift would pop inside her mind on the way there.

“C’mon.” Winn insisted, elbowing her gently. “My treat.” 

“Alright.” She could go see Lena  _ after _ . “But I can’t stay very late. And, for the record, I hate you for making me wait.”

“Of course you do.” Kara could have sworn Winn was sticking his tongue at her. 

***

The sky opened up as they were halfway to J’onn’s. 

“Crap!” Winn cursed, throwing an arm around her shoulders to shelter her from the worst of the rain. “Will it ever stop?” 

Kara only shrugged. Raindrops dripped down her neck, soaking the woolen sweater she wore underneath her jacket. Two more steps and she was already frozen to the bone. 

Having an umbrella wouldn’t have made a difference. A bitter wind blew in from the north, and she could tell from the snatches of pissed off conversation all around her, that everyone was having a hard time. 

Up ahead a car screeched to a halt, followed by the unmistakable sound of crumbling plastic. 

“Fantastic.” Winn muttered. “Some idiot just rammed their car into a dumpster.” 

He gently steered her to the left, around the clot of people that had stopped dead to stare in the middle of the sidewalk. “I can already tell Snapper is gonna have us spin the story to attack the city’s policies on recycling.”

“Don’t wanna think about it.” Thunder rolled overhead and Kara flinched closer to Winn, remembering what had happened the last time she’d been caught out in a storm. Her healing temple throbbed in sympathy. 

“You okay?” He tightened his hold a little, worry edging into his tone. “It’s just some thunder.” 

“Yeah.” Kara hastily agreed to avoid more probing questions. “Just… loud, unexpected sound, y’know?” 

“True.” They walked on in silence, the crowd thinning around them as people sought shelter from the rain. “Didn’t think about that sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Winn was always careful with his words, never made her feel like she was less than. Like  _ Alex _ , for example. “I’d worry about the bill you’ll have to pay if I were you.”

“Oh no!” They could smell J’onn’s amazing cooking from half a block away. “You’re going to eat me into bankruptcy!” 

“You bet.” Kara was  _ starving _ .

Inside, the pub was crowded, people crammed six to a table in some cases. Nobody seemed to care, as long as they were safe from the foul weather. Still, the din of voices and clinking glasses was an overwhelming wave on Kara’s senses, nearly knocking her back a step, and when Winn took the lead without her having to ask, she was grateful.

“The usual?” 

J’onn himself walked up to them as soon as they were seated — it turned out Winn had called ahead to book a table in the corner. 

“If by usual, you mean all of your menu then sure.” Kara replied, relishing Winn desparining groan. “I’m kidding!” She laughed, not having the heart to leave him on hot coals for too long. “Triple bacon cheeseburger and a hot chocolate for me.” 

“As I said before, disgusting.” Winn cut in, earning a kick for his troubles. “The usual, not gross meal combo for me, J’onn.”

“Got it.” 

They were sipping on their drinks and munching on a plate of appetizers J’onn had left to tide them over while they waited for their meals, when Winn finally pulled the file out from his bag. 

“Shall we get down to business then?” He pushed a paper toward Kara, and waited as her fingers skimmed over the Braille. 

“This is a real estate purchase contract.” She said slowly, brow furrowing in thought. “Edge Global is buying another piece of the city.” 

Her stomach knotted with nausea. It had been going on for years; Edge Global bought poorer neighborhoods and gentrified them, pushing low income families further and further away from National City’s center. Away from the best schools, the hospitals, away from public transport. From the higher paying jobs. 

Gentrification was an immoral process, but not an illegal one. Hers and Winn’s work had begun as an attempt to shed light on what happened to people’s lives when they were uprooted for profit, but rapidly devolved into something more sinister. 

Edge Global, they discovered, had been at it for years. By now, Morgan Edge owned about a quarter of the city give or take. That would have been troubling on its own, so much land (and power) in the hands of one man, but things only got worse from there. 

Because, as it turned out, when people didn’t want to sell Morgan Edge  _ made  _ them.

If any of the evidence they’d been gathering could survive scrutiny in a court of law, Kara and Winn would have already gone to the police. Everything they’d managed to get their hands on was circumstantial, and some of the papers in their possession would land  _ them  _ in trouble. Hacking into the network of a corporation that worked directly with the government was a federal offense. 

Still, it was frustrating to see Edge do whatever he wanted, the Mayor’s office blinded by the money he fronted them to  _ better their beloved city _ . 

No amount of fundraising could hide the fact that a few of Edge’s more vocal opponents — local activists, and neighborhood committees — had been silenced through scandals that seemed just a tad too timely to be mere coincidence. 

Of course, if they went to Snapper with what they’d gathered so far he’d laugh them down. Then he’d fire them, and call the police in the same breath. 

“This changes nothing.” Kara buried her face in the mug of cocoa to try and hide her disappointment. “We can only watch him do it, as usual.”

“Well, yes and no. See here?” Winn tapped at a cluster of raised dots on the document and she followed the sound to read the words he was pointing out. “Look at  _ what _ he’s buying. Makes you wonder how he’s managed to pull together that much money that fast. Property’s been on the market for two weeks.” 

“Money laundering?” Kara asked, distractedly. “We’ll just add that to the list.” 

She ran her fingers back and forth over the words, feeling oddly disjointed. It was an address, but for some reason, her mind was refusing to work out the coordinates. 

A tingle started up inside her. Not the kind she’d experienced when touching Lena, but the sort of rippling sensation that preceded numbness. It spread from the roof of her mouth to the rest of her so fast Kara struggled to breathe, and the chill the hot cocoa had staved off returned tenfold. Covered in a cold, sticky sweat, she felt like she was going to faint right there, at the table. 

Winn was saying something else, she was aware of it, in the back of her head. His words however were like static in her ears. White noise she couldn’t make heads or tails of. She tried to snap herself out of whatever trance state she’d spiralled into, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t even move a muscle. 

Just her fingertips — back and forth, back and forth across the raised script.

This happened to her in times of great distress. Like when she’d been twelve, on the operating table, with the surgeon trying to stem the blood leak in her right eye. A misfire of the brain, a sense of disconnect from reality, with her staring on the edge of herself as the rest of her hurtled toward possibly life-altering events. It went away as rapidly as it had come, and she jerked herself back to the real world with a shudder.

“Kara?” A creak of old leather signalled Winn had shifted forward in his seat. He grabbed her hand. “Kara have you even heard a word I said?” 

“Wha—” She fought to speak past the last shreds of stupor “I’m sorry, I must have—”

“You were a thousand miles away, I could see that. I was saying that to buy property so close to the park at the drop of a hat he must have had someone on the inside  _ at the very least _ . That’s prime real estate we’re talking about Kara, you know better than I since you— wait, where are you going?” 

She was out of her seat and putting on her jacket, still damp with rain, before her brain was even partly clued in to what her body was doing. 

“I— I’m sorry— I— uh. Forgot I promised mom I’d give her a call. Yeah.” It was the shittiest excuse she’d ever come up with, and judging by the way Winn reacted, it showed. 

“Right. And you can’t do that after we’ve had dinner?” 

“No, I—” She was already stepping away, white cane extended in front of her to make sense of where the other patrons were. “I’m so sorry, Winn. I just— I really gotta go.”

And with that she whirled around, shouldering past people and out into the wet night. Undoubtedly leaving an open-mouthed, wounded Winn behind. 

She’d make it up to him. Somehow.

But the lot of land Edge Global planned to buy — that Edge had already bought, apparently — included the abandoned building Lena called a  _ home _ . Ignoring the driving rain and the wind cutting through the layers of her clothing, Kara ducked her head. 

Morgan Edge had bought the place Lena lived in. He’d have it turned inside out for squatters, then razed to the ground, replacing it with some high-end nonsense. A luxury hotel, or a SpA. A gym club for rich people.

And if anyone found out  _ who  _ Lena was, what she could do — 

Kara broke into an unsteady run.

She  _ had to _ warn her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bored in lockdown? [join me on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more stories, more smut and gay nonsense!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Kara's turn to help Lena out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! There's going to be a few things to unpack in the next chapter, as our two favorite dorks get closer.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> \- Dren

“We really need to stop meeting like this.” 

Lena hadn’t meant it as a reprimand, but Kara shrank into her seat regardless. She’d crashed through the abandoned building at the cusp of the storm, swept in by wind and thunder, drenched to the bone. It was becoming a familiar sight. 

“Here, this will help.” 

In handing a cup of tea to the mortal, Lena tried not to let the thoughts that had plagued her in Kara’s absence show on her face. It didn’t matter that Kara wouldn’t see them — Lena feared the subtle tremor of her hands would prove to be enough of a reveal.

Two sentiments had gone to war inside her, each equally as terrible in its own unique way. That she would not get to see Kara ever again. That, taking Lena at her word, Kara would come back.

Now that the second possibility had realized itself, Lena was glad. Already, she’d grown too attached to Kara than was prudent, helpless to stop it. She had firmly wedged herself beneath her ribcage — a willful splinter that Lena was reluctant to pull out. Too fearful of the consequences. 

“I didn’t mean to drop on you like this.” Kara managed after a few sips of tea, the shivering subsided. “I wanted to come visit, but not startle you.” 

“You didn’t.”

Hers was only a partial truth. 

There had been an unusual amount of movement around the building in the past week. Men in suits had come first, and even though Lena didn’t concern herself with the affairs of mortals —  _ excluding  _ the one present — she recognized money when she saw it. 

It was surprising, really, how much things had stayed the same across the centuries. 

Change couldn’t be denied, but she dimly remembered when dignitaries from Athens came to visit. Oplites in shining bronze plates kept commoners at a suitable distance back then, and Lena had no trouble recognizing the circle of people in black suits and sunglasses for what they were. Bodyguards, flocking like apprehensive crows around another man who didn’t differ from them much, except that they both deferred to him and seemed to fear him. 

Lena had watched them warily, but they’d not ventured into the building. One of them had taken pictures of whatever their boss pointed at, and then they left as quickly as they’d come. 

The workers in hardhats had come next, and this time some did scout the perimeter of her building, fussing with the water lines and power boxes on the outside. They had done the same with some of the other buildings on the block, a few of which were still rented out to offices, but before Lena could make up her mind about what it all meant the weather worsened again, chasing them off. 

She had a feeling they’d return once the storm released the city from its grip for good, and had set things in motion accordingly. The most common of her herbs she’d leave behind, dispose of those which could be dangerous and return the others to the earth. As for her book collection and furniture, one of the city’s homeless shelters would receive an anonymous donation if things took a turn for the worst. 

Everything had been carefully planned, as was always the case with her. Only one thing Lena had not accounted for — and that was Kara.

“I came to warn you.” While she was engrossed in her own thoughts, Kara had drained her cup and was feeling for the teapot, following the traces of heat that radiated from the porcelain. 

Without speaking Lena nudged it closer, earning herself a smile for the small kindness. It was selfish to be happy that Kara couldn’t see her, and it wasn’t the first time she’d berated herself for such thoughts either, but she couldn’t help it. 

Had Kara's eyes been working as they should, there would have been no way for Lena to hide the blush burning on her cheeks. The snakes atop her head didn’t help even a tiny bit, rustling and rubbing against each other in pleased excitement.

It radiated from them in bursts of near visible color — Lena was certain that the world hadn’t looked this vivid in a long time. 

“Warn me?” To try and delude herself the heat on her face was due to the tea and nothing else, Lena drained her own cup in one go. “I have kept an eye on the news, and there was only brief mention of the…” The statue.  _ The man _ . 

But even before she had trailed off, Kara was shaking her head.

“Worse.” She set the cup down with a soft  _ clink _ . “You need to leave. This entire block has been bought. They will come and tear it down. Build new buildings they can sell at a profit. And if they find you—” 

Kara didn’t need to finish. Lena easily imagined the rest. They wouldn’t bear torches, but guns, and while she was confident that most modern weapons couldn’t harm her, Lena didn’t want to take the risk. 

She’d ended a few lives over the years — it was inevitable — but only when she was cornered. 

“This is not entirely unexpected. Men came, snooping around.” Lena answered, her voice cracking with an unexpected ache. National City had been her home for many years, and at the confirmation she had to leave it behind she was hurting more than she’d anticipated. 

One century ago she wouldn’t have cared as much. She’d moved through the nations like a shadow, had seen many rise only to fall and be replaced. The burning of great Alexandria, the eruption of the Vesuvius which had left the sky black with soot for days. The fall of the Roman Empire, and later on, of Byzantium. 

Lena recalled it all, if dimly. The most recent tragedies — the wars that pitted brother against brother — she’d rather forget. 

“You don’t sound upset.” Kara observed, brows furrowed as if she’d expected a different reaction. 

“Men always come, eventually. It used to be easier, but now that you can travel around the world in two days give or take…” She paused, stifling a sigh. Kara was right, she wasn’t upset, but weary. Tired of having to pack her life up every so often. There had been a sense of novelty at the start. Wonderment when she set foot on a new shore, or explored the streets of a new city with their smells and sights, the accents of the people she stared at from afar pouring in her ears like music. 

“So, what now?” 

Kara’s vague gesture encompassed the entire space, and by extension Lena’s belongings. 

“As you said, I must leave.” A clean cut, if sooner than expected. Better for them both. 

“To go where?” 

“I don’t know, yet.” 

It didn’t matter, really. Safety was a relative concept, largely dependent on circumstances the individual couldn’t control. 

“You can’t just—!” Kara exploded. She was clutching the edge of the table. A white-knuckled grip that’d surely leave her hands sore. “You can’t—!” 

“But I have to. You said so yourself.” Lena replied calmly. There was a pained rasp in her voice she did her best to ignore. “I have no other choice.” 

“Maybe…” It was clear to her now that Kara had grasped at the table to keep herself from fidgeting. “Maybe you could stay with me. Not permanently!” She rushed out as if she already knew Lena was going to object. “Just, until you figure it out. It would be better wouldn’t it? To know where you’re going before actually getting there? And I can help! I want to help,” she finished in a loud gasp, chest heaving like she’d been running the whole time. The somewhat mortified expression on her face told Lena that she knew she may have said too much all at once. 

She opened her mouth to reassure her. Kara’s offer was  _ kind _ , if misguided, mainly because it was going to put her in too much danger. 

"Kara…" Lena did lean forward then, hand outstretched, but stopping just short of touching her.

"I know what you're about to say. That I don't owe you, that it's too risky, that you can't accept. Well, sometimes when you’re kind to people they’d like to be kind back. And, yeah, maybe I feel like I owe you, but this is also the decent thing to do.” Kara paused, but only so she could draw in some air to fuel her tirade. “You can’t just  _ go _ . Out there, alone.”

Without thought Lena reached up, seeking the comfort of her snakes. They wrapped around her hand instantly, tiny noses bopping her knuckles.

It was going to be a long, long night of arguing by the looks of it. 

***

“And that way you won’t have to rush into the unknown. I mean you could—”

“Alright.” 

“— do some research. That’s part of my job, y’know. Research. I can really— wait, what?” 

The single word Lena had spoken in some time finally registered, and Kara drew short.

“I said alright.” Lena continued when a small beat had passed without either of them breaking the silence. “A few days won’t hurt, you’re right. But just a few days. And I’m taking the couch.” 

“Of course.” Kara agreed quickly, reining in her disbelief. Bringing Lena around to her way of thinking had felt like an impossible task — a mountain that just grew taller the more she climbed. She let out a wobbly little laugh. “You’re very stubborn, you know that?” 

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” 

The times in which Kara regretted not being able to see were few and far between. This was one of them. She’d give everything — well, not her soul maybe, but a lot of things — to see Lena’s face right now. In retrospect, it’d have made the whole arguing thing easier. Instead she had to rely on the small things. The inflection of her voice, or the creaking of the old chair when a point she didn’t particularly care to hear was made. 

The tired drag of Lena’s tone was telling her that Lena was pinching her nose. Had possibly closed her eyes too, perhaps attempting to regain some of the ground she felt she’d lost. 

She had to keep her mouth from twisting into a smile. It would not do to appear smug — but they’d see about the couch.

(Lena didn’t know that the apartment had a spare bedroom anyway.)

***

Between the two of them it was easier to gather Lena’s belongings than Kara’d thought. Before they left, Lena asked to borrow Kara’s phone for a quick call, explaining that someone would be by the next morning to take care of what she’d meant to leave behind to begin with. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Kara asked as they walked to her apartment. “To not have roots, I mean?” She realized the question was too personal when it was too late to take it back, but then their hands brushed, and Lena grasped hers briefly.

It was a fleeting touch, no more than a light squeeze, but it did something unexpected to Kara’s equilibrium. The world around her spun a bit, which was made ten times worse by the fact she couldn’t see it. 

Like getting out of bed too quickly, with your brain still on the pillow. 

Kara flinched involuntarily, feeling as though she was falling and bracing for the crunch of shattered bones at the end of her descent. 

It didn’t come. 

What came instead was the coolness of a tiny tongue flickering across her cheek. 

The pressure was minimal, but grounding.

“Kara?” 

Lena had taken her hand again, threading their fingers together. Kara’s heart expanded, then contracted so rapidly she grew woozy again. “Is everything alright?” What Kara had asked before had either been set aside or forgotten. 

“Yeah.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she tilted her face to the sky. “I’m fine.” 

The lie came out by rote. 

Kara had lost count of all the times someone had asked whether she was okay, if things were fine. Lying about it had become a defence mechanism, to prevent other questions for which she didn’t have or didn’t want to give an answer. Maybe it wasn't necessary with Lena. Still, she couldn’t help it.

“Come on. Let’s go home.” She took too big a step, her wrist twisting unnaturally when Lena didn’t let go of her hand. Some awkward shuffling followed, with the two of them muttering apologies to one another until they eventually locked steps. Holding hands like friends out on a midnight stroll. 

The weather was on their side for a change. It was just drizzling now, a wet caress on her cheeks. Even so, Kara could tell that the storm wasn’t done with the city — the smell of rain was too pervasive, and a humid chill lifted from the ground to seep into her bones and freeze the marrow. 

As if to prove her right, they reached her building just in time to avoid another downpour. 

***

There was a sense of controlled chaos to Kara’s apartment Lena hadn’t expected. Paperwork had overflowed from what must be a workstation to overtake the couch. Old newspapers, color coded folders, two laptops and an iPad all turned on.

“Yeah it’s a bit of a mess, I know.” Kara led the way, gathering stragglers as she went until the desk was precariously stacked full. A paper kingdom verging on collapse. 

“As I said, my job involves a lot of research.” 

Lena set the box with her belongings somewhere out of the way, and followed in Kara’s progress, eyes flitting from one object to the next.

There was a lot to take in, Kara’s life spread out all around her. It was voyeuristic of her maybe, but at the same time she felt that the most private parts of it wouldn’t have been left out in the open for anyone to find. 

A map of the city for the visually impaired drew her attention first. Several neighborhoods were circled in red sharpie, Kara’s hand surprisingly steady. 

It was easy for Lena to pick out the place she had just left, and remembering what Kara had told her of the man behind the buyout — Morgan Edge — she wondered whether he’d purchased the rest as well. A topic of conversation for some other time, Lena decided. Something they could fill the few days before she left with. 

Her gaze was next drawn to the gaggle of photographs that had an entire shelf to themselves. Pride of place meant private things, Lena averted her eyes almost immediately. 

But it had been enough for recognition. Not of the people smiling out the picture frames. Of what they meant to represent. Family.

Before she could push it down, a discolored memory resurfaced. Terracotta figurines inside an alcove. Mother and father. Older brother. 

All of a sudden, Lena’s throat was full of jagged rocks. 

“Do you mind if I, uh, if I lie on the couch for a while?” She hoped Kara wouldn’t find the request strange, after she’d so fiercely maintained she didn’t need to sleep. “I just—” 

“Anyone would be tired in your place, Lena.” Kara dumped the armful of things she had been carrying into a corner and gently pulled her down the hall. “But you don’t need to take the couch.”

“Kara, I thought we’d been over this.”

“Yeah, but there’s a spare room. It’s not much, but you can have some privacy at least.”

It was more than enough. A bed, a desk free of clutter. From the window Lena could glimpse the nearby park, the treetops painted orange by the streetlights. 

“Kara I—” She swallowed hard again, overwhelmed by emotion like she hadn’t been in a long time. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Lena could hear the smile in Kara’s voice without having to turn. She did it anyway, and it was her turn to feel like she was blind. “Feel free to rest for as long as you need. By the time you get up I’ll probably be at work already, so feel free to do or use whatever’s in the house. Bring your things in here. Settle in.” Lena tried to interrupt, but Kara spoke right over her half-hearted protests. “I know it’s only a few days, but I want you to feel at home. This is your house too, for as long as you decide to stay.” 

Lena could only stand there,  _ petrified  _ by so much kindness. Mouth working silently while her brain tried to put together an appropriate reply. But, by the time something that didn’t sound like rejection came to mind it was too late. 

Kara had bid her goodnight and disappeared behind the door to her own bedroom.

***

_ “You can help my boy can’t you?”  _

_ They all came to her, eventually. A fever that set in and wouldn’t pass. The broken ankle from a fall. Poultices for the countless pains and aches of bodies far removed from youth.  _

_ The question was a familiar one.  _ Can you help me? Will you make it better?  _ Usually she had answers to it, but this time, thumbing the child’s eye open delicately to peer at the state of his pupils, Lena wasn’t sure she did.  _

_ “I will do all I can.” She answered, taking the small bundle from his mother’s fretting arms. He was underweight, and burned in a way she didn’t like. “You can stay, if you wish.”  _

_ “I will go to the temple to make an offer to the gods and then return.” That was expected too, and it helped steady Lena’s own nerves.  _

The dream changed, shifting forward, and on the bed Lena stiffened. She fought against it, knowing what came next, willing herself back to wakefulness.

An unexpected nip sent ripples stabbing through her jaw. Not pain, exactly, but the closest thing to it. 

She gasped awake.

“Thank you.” 

Inches from her face, Lycus hissed in answer. 

“What would I do without you.” Lena scratched its head gently, and a few of the others pushed against her palm for their turn. “Yes, yes. I meant you all.” She soothed, several sets of yellow-green eyes staring into hers. 

“I don’t know.” She said after a while, letting her hand fall to the blanket and pulling it up under her chin. The room wasn’t cold — not that she’d have felt it anyway — but the blanket that she’d found on the bed bore faint traces of Kara. It must have been wrapped around her at some point. On her bed, or during a night of work spent on the couch. 

The scent of laundry detergent was there too, trapped between the softness of warp and woof, but it wasn’t overbearing.

Alone, Lena was ready to admit that it was comforting, especially after her dream. 

“I said I don’t know.” She repeated, a touch frustrated, when the snakes asked again in the only way they had. By filling the forefront of her mind with images of Kara. The concept of time was harder for them to express, but Lena saw the sun rise and fall several times behind her eyelids, and understood. “A few days like I told her. I won’t put her in danger.” 

They wanted her to stay here longer, that much was clear in how they crowded around her face, pecking and staring. Trying to win her over to their point of view. 

Clearer when it came to her thoughts, theirs now so loud Lena could barely hear herself think. 

And the worst part was that she wanted to give in. To say —  _ yes, I’ll stay until Kara grows sick of me and kicks me out _ . 

Because, while she was afraid of what could happen if she stopped here long enough to really put down some of those roots Kara had asked her about, an eternity of loneliness scared Lena even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bored in lockdown? [join me on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more stories, more smut and gay nonsense!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena thinks agreeing to stay with Kara was a mistake, but the snakes have other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the snakes in this chapter and I hope you will too.  
> \- Dren

It was late by the time Lena climbed out of bed. Uncustomarily so. 

Head heavy with sleep, it took her a few moments to regain her bearings and reconcile the unfamiliar surroundings with the memory of Kara’s apartment. The night before she’d been too drained by events to explore, and only noticed a few details. In the bright noonday light everything looked different. Sharper. 

It was so warm in the nest her body had naturally created under the blankets, that once Lena’s mind caught up with her circumstances, she was tempted to go back to sleep. 

The snakes didn’t let her.

“No, stop it! Alright, alright I’m getting up!” The insistent pecking they were subjecting her face to immediately ceased. 

Brushing the slower snakes from her eyes, Lena sat up, blinking against the light that spilled in from the window. The curtains weren’t thick enough to keep the sun out, and she’d not pulled them fully shut the night before. A slice of sky so blue it looked painted bid her good morning. 

_ Ugh _ . It was the unfamiliar bed, she thought, but Lena was aware of her body in a way she hadn’t been in recent memory. There was a nasty pull in her neck, from muscles that had been idling for too long in one position, and her back — well, for the first time ever, maybe, she felt as old as she was. 

She was  _ very  _ old, enough it was becoming hard to keep track.  _ For the record _ .

Hungry too, after a fashion, or at least there was a void that could stand to be filled inside her stomach. It must be Kara’s vicinity, accidentally retraining her near-immortal body to long forgotten human needs.

“By the gods, I get it. Will you please cut it out?” 

The snakes writhed about her head like overeager children, flaring out in all directions. Forked tongues ficked out, tasting the air, and a sense of pounding excitement built at the base of her skull. They wanted Lena to explore this new place, and wanted her to do it  _ now _ . 

Since it was obvious that no more rest was to be had, she gave in, a sound which was a blend of resignation and amusement huffing out of her. Perhaps she could find something to eat as well.

The apartment was empty, Kara evidently gone to work. It was a small place, floorboards a bit creaky with age, but cozy. The spaces Lena would get to call her own were the discarded spots nobody else wanted, often littered with broken glass and trash until she came and cleaned them out. Inhabitable, but never really hospitable, especially because she knew that sooner or later she’d have to leave. 

As such she did her best not to grow attached, but it was obvious from a quick tour of the apartment that Kara had put down roots here, and they dug deep. 

“Oh no, we’re not going in there.” She stood in the hallway, debating whether to hunt for food or bring what she’d saved from her last hideout into the spare room when the snakes’ heads turned as one to a room she had not peeked into yet. Past “ _ her _ ” bedroom and the bathroom, to a door that had been left ajar. 

Lena didn’t need to get any closer to know it was Kara’s room. 

“No, I said.” She repeated when Lycus stretched forward, her cheeks heating up. They weren’t the only ones that wanted to see, but it wouldn’t be proper. Lena had been invited to stay, not poke her nose (or her snakes) where it didn’t belong. “There’s plenty else to see,” she soothed, ducking into the kitchen and doing her best to ignore Lycus’s contrarian hiss. “And I’ll sit in the sun for a while, so you can soak up some heat.” That shut him right up. 

To be honest, Lena looked forward to that too. The couch, positioned as it was right under the broad living room windows would make for a great sun-soaking spot. And it had been, oh so long, since she had indulged the snakes (and herself). Living in a city had its downsides.

Compared to the living room and Kara’s working space, the kitchen was surprisingly tidy. It wasn’t that the rest of the apartment was dirty or unkept, but everywhere else Kara’s creativity was allowed to run wild. One glance and it was clear that here each object had its place, which made sense, as it must be so much harder for Kara to avoid the hazards of a burn or a knife forgotten outside the cutlery drawer. 

Lena’s eyes were immediately drawn to the wooden shelf that held Kara’s selection of spices. Only a few glass jars of the most common herbs for cooking, really — sage and rosemary, thyme and cloves. A few others. It was a meager showing compared to the amount of herbs and spices Lena surrounded herself with, but it warmed her to see it. 

The beginning of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth — everything had been lovingly labeled, in Braille and print, so that both Kara and her guests could find what they were looking for. 

A printed note stuck to the fridge drew her attention next.  _ Good morning Lena _ , it read,  _ the fridge is full if you get hungry. As I said, make yourself at home. K <3 _

Lena found herself reading it twice; not because the message wasn’t clear, but because her eyes kept tripping over the tiny, stylized heart Kara had added at the end. It meant nothing, obviously. Just a quirk of Kara’s, a way to emphasise the message. To let Lena know that she truly was welcome here.

Feeling a little foolish Lena took the note, and after having folded it with care, slipped it into the front pocket of the flannel she was wearing. She didn’t know why she did it, more accurately didn’t want to think about it, but as she went through the food supplies gathering ingredients, the folded note crinkled with every movement right over her heart. She couldn’t stop smiling about it, and every now and then she’d pause, poking at the pocket with a finger to reassure herself it was still there. 

This behavior was so unlike her, Lena knew, but told herself it was harmless. After so many centuries spent on the fringes, being somewhere genuinely welcoming to her was a nice change of pace. That was all.

Diverting her mind from such thoughts became easier once her hands were busy prepping food. She opted for something simple; scrambled eggs, a piece of buttered toast. A cup of tea to ease it all down. Lena didn’t hold much hope that the latter would be good — the tea bags had been stored out of the way inside a dusty tin box — but if not great, the brew turned out to be at least drinkable. 

The snakes flicked their tongues out at everything with rapt curiosity, filling her mind with a thousand different colors. They had a rather unique way of seeing the world; that was to say they saw it pretty poorly, but were able to perceive even the most tenuous of scents. Smells so ephemeral for a human nose, and as Lena had no name for them, the snakes supplied her with sensations her mind could understand. 

“Yes, I know you like it here.” She sighed indulgently, carrying her plate back to the living room, “you keep reminding me, how could I forget?” 

Her intention had been to sit down on the couch to savor her food, but the snakes weren’t having it. Attached as they were to her head, it was easy for them to pull Lena where they wanted her to go if they got it in their tiny minds to, and they did now, so frantic to continue the apartment’s exploration they were tangling with excitement. 

“Okay, alright!” Lena brushed a writhing mass of bodies from her eyes, “if any of you ends up in a knot I swear to all the gods—” The last time that happened it had been a painful three days for everyone involved. 

She sighed again — seemed to be doing an awful lot of  _ that  _ lately — and went on to examine the photographs on Kara’s bookshelf in between bites of toast. A younger Kara, wearing a cap and gown in her university colors beamed back from a frame. She was flanked by two other smiling women — mother and sister if Lena had to take a guess. The pictures went back in time; highschool Kara dressed for prom, Kara in braces hugging a white labrador decked in a bright orange service dog harness with the name  _ Krypto  _ stenciled on the side. When she came to the-baby-pictures-of-Kara section, Lena couldn’t keep in a small  _ aww _ .

“I know,” she said under her breath when Lycus and Asklepios stretched forward, booping at one particular picture with blunt noses. “She was the cutest baby.” Was the cutest woman still. But. Details. 

Licking breadcrumbs off of her fingers, Lena finally meandered back to the couch, intending to soak in some sun like she’d promised. The snakes could be a bit babyish, true, but she wanted some of the warmth for herself. 

It had been too long, Lena thought as she worked to free up a little space for herself. And maybe staying with Kara for a few days wasn’t as terrible as she’d dreaded. Sun-soaking was a definite upside. As was the knowledge that she was safer here, in Kara’s small apartment than she’d been in the abandoned building she’d occupied. 

The chances of someone breaking in here were significantly smaller. 

Piling folders on the floor –-- they were labeled the same way as the jars in the kitchen not simply color coded –-- Lena sat down, closing her eyes for a moment. The couch was well-loved and the cushions sagged a bit under her weight, indicating this was Kara’s favorite spot also. Lena spotted books among the chaos of papers on the coffee table, and while they were obviously all in Braille, she found several newspapers and magazines she could read her way through. They ranged from a few days to several weeks old, but that was nothing new. 

What she picked up in the free newspaper boxes aside, Lena only got to read newspapers when people threw them out, so she’d grown accustomed to playing catch-up. 

Kara must have some way to scan these in digital form, and a computer program that’d read them back to her. 

Soon enough, Lena was leafing through different outlets, trying to figure out which one it was that Kara worked for. She was sure it had been written on the press badge that had fallen out of Kara’s pockets the first time Lena had taken to her building, but the shock of discovering that the blind girl she’d ended up protecting was a journalist –-- and the following spike of fear –-- had been too great. Lena couldn’t recall.

It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for, Kara’s name winking up at her from the glossy pages of CatCo Magazine. The article was only a short blurb on renewable energy sources, and way toward the back, but Kara’s name featured more prominently in recent issues. 

Some of the articles were fluff pieces –-- fashion, the Oscars, which celebrity was getting married and to who —- but quite a few focused on more serious matters. Lena became so engrossed by Kara’s captivating style she lost track of time, and blinked herself back to the present only when she realized she was squinting at the page.

Lulled by the sun’s heat, most of the snakes had fallen asleep, and although it wasn’t as hot in the living room as it had been when she sat down around noon, her head was stuffy with residual warmth. 

Setting aside the magazine she’d been reading, Lena stretched both arms over her head. She moved slowly and tried to not wake the snakes, but a few perked up regardless, nosing at her to be cuddled.

“I think you’ve slept enough.” She scratched and stroked at the hands pushing against her palm, eyes trained to the sky outside the window.

Lena’s haunts were subterranean, as away from mortals as feasibly tenable in a city of several million people. Sunrise and sunset were rare treats. More often than not, by the time it was safe for her to venture outside her den, the sky would be star-tossed already, the night deep. The city fast asleep.

So, indulging by the window to watch daylight fade slowly was something she felt was due. A newfound freedom that would be hard to part with, just like sunning in a south-facing spot. Necessary to keep Kara safe, but Lena didn’t have to be happy about it.

She couldn’t see the sun from where she sat, but staring as it gleamed, orange and russet red off of the downtown skyscrapers a few blocks away was more than enough. Only when the warmth had completely melted away did Lena stand, telling herself she had at least a couple more days of this to enjoy.

Already, she was starting to dread her inevitable departure. 

***

Kara went to work with Lena on her mind.

Given the choice, she would have stayed home, but there was no way Snapper’d grant her a vacation day on such short notice, and she’d already picked Friday as her work-from-home day for that week. So. 

So she tumbled out of bed, hopelessly late, and irremediably crushing on the gorgon asleep in the spare bedroom. At least — Kara hoped as she snuck down the hallway as quietly as she could –-- at least she hoped Lena was getting a little sleep.

She’d had a hard time of it herself the night before, too wired by Edge’s latest asshole move. And,  _ hello _ ? mythical creature sleeping with her, well, not with her _ with her _ . Yet. (crap). 

Anyhow, she’d tossed and turned in bed. Checked the time on her smartwatch, which Mickey Mouse cheerfully informed her of at the press of a button, every hour.

By the time dawn came around, not a gradual lessening of darkness for Kara, but a subtle yet steady increase in the noise pollution from outside, she was as jumpy as if she’d drunk six cans of Red Bull back to back. 

She had not had caffeine in more than twelve hours so joke on her, really. 

At one point during the night — it had been around 2am in mice hours — Kara had heard a tiny sound come from Lena’s room. A whimper, she thought, but before she could make up her mind and go investigate, silence had fallen again. So heavy and absolute she had been loath to break it. 

Maybe Lena was having a nightmare. Did gorgons have nightmares, or even dream at all? Kara was dying to know but it felt like a rather personal question, and Lena might have saved her, but they weren’t at that stage.

She was so ensnared — ensnaked? — by thoughts of the gorgon, she walked half a block past CatCo’s main entrance, which meant she clocked in late, and would need to make up for the lost time. 

The day went by in a haze anyway, Winn shooting her worried glances she couldn’t see but perceived well enough, Kara struggling to string together a coherent sentence whether it was idle conversation or writing an assignment. Thankfully, or not depending on where one stood on the matter, Edge Global’s latest acquisition was all the buzz in the bullpen. 

It had made quite the splash this time, and the media was starting to notice. Oh, they’d  _ known  _ already, but this was too big to pass on.

Snapper summoned them to his office right before lunch.

“Danvers, Schott, I want you to run a piece on Edge Global, from its humble beginnings to the real estate broker mogul it is now.” Winn’s elbow jabbing into her side was the one thing holding Kara back from a full-blown eye roll. 

Creating a company thanks to daddy’s money was anything but humble. 

“We’ll put it in the center spread of next week’s number, alongside the interview with Mr. Edge Siobhan just secured.” 

Great.

“Yes, sir.” They chorused, filing out before their boss could decide to give them even more work. 

“Hey,” Winn joked later, as they sat down at the cafè across the street for a quick bite. “At least we already got the research done. It’s like cheating on a test.” 

“Yeah.” Kara poked at the food in her taco bowl with a vengeance. “You know, I’ve always wanted to write something worthy of the center spread but not—”

“Not this, yeah.” Winn agreed, his enthusiasm dwindling. “But listen, maybe we can play with the angle a little. Obviously we can’t call Edge out too overtly, but if we’re careful…”

Kara nodded. It could work. Most likely it would land them in a world of trouble. She didn’t have the heart to tell Winn as much yet, though. She was already being enough of a downer, she felt, and her head wasn’t in the game that day anyway. Maybe Winn was seeing something she didn’t, which wouldn’t surprise her, since all she could think about was Lena.

6pm couldn’t come quick enough.

***

Yeah, so maybe Kara was crushing on Lena, so what. 

Color was such a foreign concept to her, even though her abled bodied friends were always happy to describe what they saw if she asked, and yet she’d started to play this stupid game in which she tried to guess what color Lena’s eyes could be. 

Going at it logically, Lena’s eyes might resemble those of her snakes. When Kara had asked, she’d told her the snakes had green eyes, so it stood to reason hers would look the same. But what hue? How deep? Kara felt that she was missing out on a crucial piece of information. It was odd, fixating on the one thing that could kill her if perceived. The small detail that would mean she couldn’t be around Lena at all. Theoretically speaking, Kara was willing to risk it, but instinctively knew Lena would never allow it.

She was still thinking these thoughts when she headed home, so distracted she was navigating her way into the apartment and to the bathroom on autopilot. So engrossed in her hypotheses she didn’t even hear the gurgle of the water rattling the old pipes, or hear it spatter against the tempered glass of the shower box. 

It didn’t register that she’d walked in on Lena taking a shower until she walked, quite literally,  _ into her _ . Naked — her brain supplied unhelpfully, when the drip-drip of the water was replaced by the raspy hiss of some very caught-off guard snakes — Lena was naked. 

But of course, who was gonna take a shower clothed? 

“Oh, my God.” It was useless, but Kara covered her eyes anyway. “Oh heck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t — I would never —” Lena was so close she could feet the damp heat of her skin. It swirled into her nose, redolent with the lavender notes of her shampoo. Her hair, unruly as they were in their normal state, curled up to a tangled mess within seconds. “I, uh. I’m gonna go? I’m so, so sorry…”

“No!” Lena cleared her throat. “I mean, I need to get dressed, but uhm, don’t apologize. I guess I forgot to lock the door. Yeah.” They stood in awkward silence, water trickling on the tiles, the snakes now brushing Kara’s cheeks apologetically. “‘m sorry.” Lena mumbled, and when cooler air swept between them Kara could tell she’d taken a step back. “They just got spooked. They didn’t, like, bite you, right?” 

“Oh no.” Kara flailed, waving Lena’s apology away. She was the one who should be doing all the sorry- _ ing _ . “And even if they had, I kinda deserve it.”

She felt around with her left hand for the stack of clean towels she kept on a low stool next to the shower, and grabbing the topmost she thrust it forward, like some sort of shield. She expected Lena to want to leave now — she must think of her as some sort of creep, blindness or not. 

Lena who was  _ still  _ naked, the insistent voice at the back of her head reminded her, taking pains to also let her know that the only thing separating them was the towel Kara had unfurled in lieu of a curtain. A wave of heat blazed through her, gathering with an expectant sort of weight low in her belly. 

“I’ll go order food.” As soon as Lena’s hands curled around the top edge of the towel, fingers brushing against hers for just a second, Kara let go. “You, uh, take your time, yeah?” 

She bolted, not bothering to wait for the gorgon’s answer. 

***

They ended up on opposite sides of the couch like two human shaped bookends, a dinner of indian food on the clutter-free coffee table in front of them. Lena felt they were, if not at odds with one another, decidedly more distant than they had been so far. The air was heavy with mutual embarrassment, sparked with the static of a storm ready to break loose. They didn’t speak, only the sound of cutlery scraping their plates breaking the silence, but there were so many things Lena wanted to say.

Too many, maybe since all the words got stuck on the way out. Sharp and jagged like rocks.

It was the snakes who bridged the gap in the end. They’d been side-eyeing Kara’s naan for a while, swaying back and forth, heads swiveling to follow whenever she tore a piece off and brought it to her mouth. 

In retrospect, Lena should have guessed their intentions sooner. They may be part of her, and partly pets, but they still behaved like predators. 

Lycus was, of course, the instigator. He darted forward, beating the others at the waiting game, and snatched a piece of garlic naan right out of Kara’s hand.

“ _ κλέπτης!”[thief]! _ ” Lena did her best to pull him back, but he wriggled out of her grasp so easily she wondered if there was eel in his lineage. “Polite snakes don’t steal food that isn’t theirs.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” The reticence Kara had been displaying after the shower incident dissolved, and she cooed at Lycus, tickling him under the head. He licked her finger, then wrapped around her wrist briefly, content to bask there for a few moments. Sensing there might be more food to be had, the rest of her snakes crowded in, and Lena had no choice but to scoot closer. 

She watched as Kara fed crumbs to the shy ones, which also happened to be the smallest of the lot, laughing when they rubbed against her jaw in thanks. They were being bribed right under her nose. 

“You shouldn’t —” Lena started, but had to stop and gulp down air. The tingles had returned, the snakes falling over themselves to hug around Kara’s shoulders. They were just slightly longer than her — Lena let out a wistful sigh, that was more of a wet hiccup. A touch longer than her hair had been, so very long ago. “You shouldn't feed them.” She picked up, trying to hide the waver in her voice. “They’ll never stop bugging you now.” 

“But it doesn’t hurt them, does it?” 

“No.” That short reply was all Lena could manage. Lycus was already begging for another morsel, and he was — Artemis have mercy — he was slithering across Kara’s collarbone. And Lena was  _ feeling it _ , like audio feedback vibrating up her bones. It made her want to press her thighs together. 

“Don’t worry about her, Snakernoodle.” Kara giggled, nudging along his scaly hide with her knuckles. “She’s just mad I’m not sharing my naan with her.” A tiny whine tumbled from her lips, and Kara pushed the half full box toward her. “But you can have some if you’d like.” 

Lena wanted to say that missing out on naan wasn’t the issue she was having here, but words deserted her. She grabbed a big chunk of the soft dough instead, stuffing it in her mouth.

Watching as Kara fed the rest to the snakes, winning them over to her side of things for good. 

(whatever that was.)

By the time they had cleared out all the food and piled the empty styrofoam containers on one side to be thrown into the trash before bed, Kara had started to fade. She must have had a long day.

“T’was so good.” She said, snuggling into Lena’s side, food coma having lowered her inhibitions, clearly. “‘re warm.” 

“Uh, thanks?” 

But Kara had fallen asleep, pressed so close she was missing her lap by a few, negligible inches. 

Lena didn’t dare move a muscle for fear of waking her, and the snakes saw that as permission to spill-slide onto her, around her shoulders and her arms, touching everywhere they could reach as if they were responding to an overwhelming cosmic pull. A few even looked like they were thinking about sliding under Kara’s shirt — where it had ridden up, exposing a strip of tanned skin — but Lena’s pointed throat-clearing put an end to that. 

Gods above, she thought, breath leaving her in a rush when Kara nuzzled sleepily into her neck, this had been a terrible mistake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bored in lockdown? [join me on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more stories, more smut and gay nonsense!

**Author's Note:**

> Looking for things to do as we slip into lockdown hell part two? Want more smut? 
> 
> Follow the link [on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay shenanigans!


End file.
